Harry Potter and the Infinitely Plastic Universe
by emwfan
Summary: Harry's seventh year.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: ALL OF THE CHARACTERS AND SCENARIOS BELONG TO J. K. ROWLING AND/OR WARNER BROS.

A/N: Just this, thank you J. K. Rowling for giving the next generation an epic.

A/N P.S. I would sincerely appreciate comments to help me write a better story.

Harry Potter and the Infinitely Plastic Universe

Prologue:

Late June, Previous Year:

It was almost 10 p.m. when Millard Randels, PhD, entered Number 22 Downing Street. He presented his identity card to the somber faced guard who checked it against a list of authorized visitors. Even after passing though a metal detector and a search of his person, the process was repeated by a representative of Special Air Service. Finally, the Prime Minister's new assistant, Kingsley Shacklebolt, looked Millard up and down before checking his identity card against yet another list. Millard looked at ease with the increased security, having been a part time consultant for a number of different ministries within the British government; interspersed with his normal position as a Professor at Cambridge University. He was called in whenever there was some intractable problem that the government scientists couldn't crack. His enjoyment of the challenges his position afforded him belied his calm, neat appearance. He was a little taller than average, thin, in his mid-forties, graying, and carried more than a little of the air that marked him as a university professor.

As Millard finally stepped into the Prime Minister's office he quickly scanned the room making small observations of what had and had not changed since he was last there three years ago. Casually he noted the Anne deBerarge coffee table had a small chip in one of the legs and the 1892 replica of the Sea Giant trading vessel was dustier than should be appropriate for this office. Also the rather fine antique rug in front of the fireplace was covered in ashes. However there were three other distinct changes that were decidedly odd. First, surrounding an unremarkable painting of a slightly frog-like man there were obvious signs of recent construction. The wall had been re-plastered with no overt indication as to why. Second, directly across from this painting the Prime Minister had installed one of the new ELPROMA NTS-300 GPS Time servers. Attached to it was a rather large bright red LED display of the local time precise to some ridiculously small fraction of a second. In fact the last digits on the clock changed so fast they showed only as dimly glowing number eights. Third, immediately adjacent to the time server was an extraordinarily accurate reproduction of the H-4 timepiece that had won the prize for discovering the way to calculate longitude for ships at sea.

The Prime Mister sat a small table situated between the clocks and the painting and allowed Millard to scan the room before standing up to greet him. "Thank you for coming so late, Dr. Randels, I have so little time nowadays with all the events of the last few weeks. I trust the trip over was of no inconvenience." The Prime Minister said in the cultured tones of one well used to public speaking.

"No trouble at all Mr. Prime Minister. It took me just a second to pop over from John Harrison's flat. And, as always, I serve at the pleasure of Her Majesty the Queen regardless of the trivialities." Millard said in the perfunctory voice of someone used to formality.

"Please sit down" the Prime Minister cordially offered as he pointed to one of the two chairs. As Millard moved to take the seat nearest him, Mr. Shacklebolt came into the office carrying a pot of tea, two cups, and some sugar and cream. He quickly and quietly moved across the small space and placed the tray soundless between them. "Thank you very much, Mr. Shacklebolt, a spot of tea would be a perfectly charming idea. Do I have any further appointments this evening?" the Prime Minister enquired while reaching across for the teapot.

"No Mr. Prime Minister, Dr. Randels will be your last." Mr. Shacklebolt replied.

"Excellent, then I would appreciate if you would finish up the daily and get it to the Ministry before leaving. I don't want to jinx our recent communications, but I am looking for improvements.", the Prime Minister finished conversationally.

"Of course, Mr. Prime Minster.", Mr. Shacklebolt said while nodding his head and began moving towards the door.

"Would you like some of this enchanting tea Dr. Randels? It is from a small island just off of the Indian coast called Lypton and has a very mild flavor?", the Prime Minister asked Millard.

"That would be fine. So what may I do for you this evening Mr. Prime Minister?", Millard asked pleasantly.

"I would like to talk to you about this damnable weather. Heathrow has been fog bound for two weeks and, as you are quite well aware of the West Country, suffered from what can only be described as a mini-hurricane.", the Prime Minister replied rather flatly.

"Yes, I can imagine why. The weather does seem to be on everyone's mind nowadays. In fact, the last four issues of Nature seemed to be wholly dedicated to the subject. I believe much of the chaotic weather patterns we are experiencing are the direct result of climate change. With every systemic change there are localized patterns of complexity. However, I would like to remind the Prime Minister of the old saying 'Coincidence is not Correlation; Correlation is not Causation'. Whereas there is increasing evidence of a general warming trend, as far as I am aware there is no conclusive evidence that this is anything other than of natural trend of heating and cooling experienced by this planet over its history." Millard concluded in a tone that indicated he had had this conversation many times and my have even used it in his classes.

"I can appreciate your skepticism, Dr. Randels. But I am faced with real impacts that have already resulted in the death of British citizens. Colonel Franklin in the West Country has requested immediate logistical support and cursed the lack of available resources to deal with the destruction. I'm not asking you predict the weather, but I believe that it is only going to get worse and I need to do something." the Prime Minister's voice raised in uncharacteristic frustration. The Prime Minister abruptly stood up from his chair, walked to the window, and gazed out to the darkness.

Millard's eyes slightly narrowed and, after an uncomfortable pause, he cautiously responded to the Prime Minister's obvious frustration by saying, "Its almost like that old American saying, 'Everyone complains about the weather, but no one does anything about it'."

This seemed to pacify the Prime Minister as he returned to his chair not saying anything, but simply taking a sip from his tea cup.

"The last thing I want to say concerning this is that I understand that this topic is rather controversial right now and, to use another American phase, that every Tom, Dick, and Harry has an opinion. But it is your community, the scientific community, to which I am turning. I mean if I want to know about jewelry I would go to a jeweler and if I wanted know about pots … ", the Prime Minister stopped, sighed, and rubbed his eyes attempting to assuage the visible exhaustion that he felt. "Listen to me; I have finally succumb to cliché's. All must be truly lost", the Prime Minister jested with himself.

Millard intently looked into the Prime Minister's eyes and said decisively "I know that change always spells trouble, but I absolutely assure you Mr. Prime Minister, I will do all within my ability serve Her Majesty the Queen at this time."

"Yes, I will deeply appreciate whatever you can do for Britain.", the Prime Minister said with the barest of smiles. "Now I must return to other concerns. Please, send in Mr. Shackleton and have him bring in the budgetary analysis for our on-going disaster relief operations." The Prime Minister waved dismissively as he picked up a folder and began to review its contents.

Millard stood up from the table, bowed briefly to the Prime Minister, and made his way to the small desk just outside of the Prime Minister's office. After informing Mr. Shackleton, he made is way to the streets of London and began walking. He started without any real direction taking each step with a slow, measured pace. It was only after about three hours of this that his gaze slowly raised from the street and leveled on a distant horizon.

He made his way directly back to a flat he maintained in the city, packed a small bag with a change of cloths and sundries, and then went to his computer. He quickly typed an email to the Dean of Cambridge University, expressing his intent to go on hiatus from his position; to some friends that he would be traveling; and to various others to make arrangements for an extended absence. Lastly, he picked a map of the West Country and headed out the door.

Coincidently, at the moment Millard was talking with the Prime Minister another meeting was taking place, though in a wholly different setting and with wholly different participants. Many miles north of London and deep within a massive expanse of woods, the Centaur delegation cautiously approached the shoreline of a lake. The oldest member knocked a blood red arrow into a crudely wrought wooden bow. Drawing the bow back, he launched the projectile far into the lake where it unceremoniously vanished below the placid surface with barely a sound and even less of a ripple.

The representatives waited patiently as the night drew on. Only the youngest member rocked back and forth unable to completely restrain his mounting tension. Finally, with a sound of splashing water and an odd clacking noise, an object landed at the feet of the centaurs. The oldest of them reached out with a spear and lifted a necklace make entirely of shells. With sadness he looked at each of the others and said in a deep, deep, gravely voice, "Then it is to war we shall go."

The youngest member lowered his head and the others turned to him. They brought out a canvas bag that was damp and leaking water. It was filled with a spongy form of moss that glistened with some sort of inner light. "Remember," the oldest centaur began in a gruff and demanding voice, "you must eat some of the Gillyweed every day. Any longer and you will die and have failed the herd." Nodding, the youngest centaur took the bag and went down to the shoreline. Looking into the cold, clear waters he noticed a pair of eyes that held the same sorrow and fear looking back at him. In concert, the two beings took a mouthful of their respective magical herbs and began to chew. The bitter taste of the Gillyweed made him wince as he finally swallowed the last bit. His counterpart also showed displeasure at what looked to be a type of grain held tightly in a seal skin bag. Neither of them looked back as they approached the slim boundary that separated their two worlds. The effect of the weed and grain was almost immediate. The young centaur began to gag and grab his throat as gills formed on the sided of his chest. His hind legs began to shrink and soon vanished entirely. With a massive splash, the young mer-centaur fell into the water, greedily sucking the life giving liquid into his lungs and out his gills. Waiting for him was a delegation of the Mer.

His counterpart's transition was every bit as dramatic as his. A large equine body formed where a fishes' muscular tail had once been. Gasping, but quickly gaining strength the centaur-mer stood upon her new, still wobbly legs, for the first time. She bowed her head and said in a shreiky, high pitched voice, "The Chieftain of the Mer, my mother, sends her greetings to the Lord of the Centaurs." The oldest centaur briefly nodded his head and pronounced, "The Centaurs welcome you."

With that the herd turned to re-enter the forest. Lagging behind, the oldest centaur, when he knew none of the others could see, looked back at the lake and quietly said with a great sadness, "Goodbye my son. I will not fail you." Then he followed the others into the woods, his home.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harry stood facing Voldemort; his wand held loosely at his side. Not due to surprise or horror, but because that enabled him the quickest response. His years of Quidditich honed reflexes lay hidden under a calm exterior. Harry hated not with the tumultuous, impassioned fervor of a zealot, but with the cold, calculated intensity of a sniper. He needed the control, the focus; in order to cast the one spell he knew would kill Voldemort. A seeming eternity passed with neither moving. A soft breeze whispered by; gently stroking the tall grasses surrounding them into a subtle dance. Who moved first was impossible to determine, there was a flurry of their cloaks, twitch like motions of their wands, and the simultaneous shouting of "Tangeleto" and "Protego".

Voldemort's spell repealed from Harry's shield with a gong like reverberation that that shattered the still air and created an expanding ripple in the grasses around them. Voldemort sneared as he said, "Well it seems that you have at least learned one spell while at Hogwarts, it must have been Snape who taught you. Everybody knows that Dumbledore was a doddering old fool and Sirius was just incompetent." Harry knew that Voldemort was trying to break his concentration, to cause that fraction of a second delay which would spell death.

Then they began in earnest, first with simple spells and jinxes, then with hexes and curses. The air around them became so saturated with magic that it initially shimmered, next it glowed, then it shined iridescent, and finally as the battle between the two wizards reached its crescendo the air around them began to rip as if the fabric of reality itself was being torn asunder. It was at that moment that Voldemort unleashed his most powerful and deadly spell, the unforgivable curse, AVADA KEDAVRA! The horrible green light filled with hate and malice howled as it coursed through the slim space between them. Prepared, Harry summoned all the love he had ever felt for his parents, for Sirius, for Dumbledore and opened a door within his very soul, releasing a torrent of yellowish energy that flooded forth and engulfing Voldemort's dark magic thereby… thereby…

"No that's not right, avada kedavra is unstoppable, everybody knows that", Harry thought to himself. It just wouldn't work that way. Rewinding to just prior to Voldemort's unleashing, Harry instead saw himself relying upon his Quiddich honed reflexes to leap out of the way at the very last moment while casting the very same spell back at Voldemort killing him … killing him … "No that's also wrong when. I tried to use that spell again Belletrix she just laughed", Harry winced as that night over two years ago filled his memory. Even then Dumbledore saved me with the statues. I'm just not powerful enough, not fast enough, just not enough of a wizard to defeat him.

Feeling himself spiraling into despair, Harry instead conjured an image of himself as the general of a great army of magical beings. Surging forward they swept aside Voldemort's followers leaving him exposed. On Harry's order they all cast at once blowing him into oblivion. "But he could had just disapparated, leaving you lamely on a vacant battlefield" said a small voice from the back of his head.

"How about a massive air battle fought on brooms and various flying beasts where I could force him to spiral into the ground? Or, after throwing his horcuxes one by one into a massive volcano, watching him die? Or, some sort of super weapon or spell to kill him? Or a martial arts extravaganza to include ripped clothing, and offset dialog from their mouths? Or, how about throwing bucket water on him and watching him melt." Harry finally thought dissolutely.

"I can't win"

At this realization, Harry sunk even further into his bed at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, UK. Many of these fantasies he knew were being fed by the mindless stream of drivel coming from a small television set that sat across from his bed. It would be kind to describe it as a gift from the Dursleys, when it was actually a bribe. They had fixed it in place, along with a number of new locks on his door, in hopes that he would spend as much time as possible in his room. So he accommodated them. It had only been a couple of days since Harry Potter had gotten back from Hogwarts and his initial resolve after Dumbledore's death had left him. Thoughts of Dumbledore, Sirius, and Cedric constantly swam and the corners of his mind, he felt responsible for each and the resulting despair was overwhelming.

"Tomorrow I will pull myself together and start preparing." Harry encouraged himself using the prayer of St. Procrastinator. He knew it was pointless. Grief happened and he had to surrender to it in order to get past it. As Dumbledore had said at the end of his fourth year about the death of Cedric, "It is my belief, however that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

This is also what Harry thought of Dumbledore whose last conversation with Malfoy was so strange, so surreal. Dumbledore must have allowed himself to be captured; it was the only thing that made sense. Then he fought so hard to protect Malfoy, even offering to hide his entire family. Moreover he knew all along about many of Malfoy's plans and attempts to kill him. Still he repeatedly gave Malfoy every chance to choose another path; one away from his father's; one into the right side. The bitterness towards Malfoy that lingered in Harry's mouth every time he thought about that night was beginning to fade. While Harry certainly didn't believe that Dumbledore died because of a blunder, he did believe that Dumbledore died because he held all beings, magical or otherwise to a higher standard. A standard that said everyone has a choice between what is right and what is easy. If nothing else this was the lesson Harry was taking with him.

For the first time in his life Harry was privately appreciative of the Dursleys. The protection his mother's blood offered him in this house was allowing him to feel his grief head on without worrying that Voldemort was going to jump out of his closet at any moment. It was an amazingly fortunate that Dumbledore had virtually coerced the Dursleys into allowing him to stay. If he had not, Harry would have already been on the run. "But running to where?" thought Harry. "I know that I want to visit Godric's Hollow, my parent's graves, 22 Grimmauld place, then be at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and afterwards find the locket... the cup… the snake… something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaws's" With that thought Harry began to realize for the first time in his life how big the world is and how protected he has been up until now.

"Like Dumbledore, I'm on my own now." Harry proclaimed to the room. But as soon as he said those words he began to doubt their legitimacy. "Dumbledore had Hogwarts, and was the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot, and head of the Order of the Pheonix, and had friends amongst the Centaurs, Merpeople, and who knows who else. I remember thinking of Slughorn as a giant spider who pulled the strings of power from behind the scenes. However Dumbledore was different, he simply had a vision and allowed you to choose whether you wanted it to by your vision also." Harry concluded.

"It's like that fifth year at Hogwarts and being in Dumbledores' Army. I didn't ask for anybody to follow me, it was more like they wanted to go to the same place I did." As Harry thought this a deeper guilt began to overcome him. "Had I just kept it up, we could have stopped them that night. With a small fraction of the members we fought Voldemort's Death Eaters to a standstill and had we had more then… Then what? Who knows and I'll never know. That's the trap. By not following through I'll never know what could have happened."

Getting out of bed, Harry began to pace the floor with growing conviction. He continued the thought that so dismayed him just a moment ago, "I don't want to live my life in regret, always thinking of the possibilities rather than what I actually have. I chose to give up Dumbledore's Army because I thought I was going to learn something that would make me special, powerful so I could have destroyed Voldemort by myself. But that can't happen, I'm not powerful enough and he has an endless supply of Death Eaters. Didn't Dumbledore once tell me that some of Voldemort's followers are almost as powerful as he? Not only can I not beat him, but we can never be free of Voldemort or whoever follows in his footsteps. I wonder if this is how Dumbledore felt after defeating Grindelwald?"

Harry's mind became a cascade of images, impressions, emotions, and most surprisingly thoughts about Professor Binns History of Magic class. It seemed like there have always been Dark Wizards trying to take over the world. In every circumstance a group of dedicated individuals eventually beat them back. Shocked at the prospect that he may have actually picked up something in Professor Binns' class, Harry began crystallize the vision of the world he wanted to live in. Voldemort once told him, "There is no good and evil, there is only power...and those too weak to seek it." But there is evil, it appears whenever someone chooses easy over right. "I am going to give people the opportunity to choose and deal with the consequences." Harry thought resolutely at the same time almost giggling at the simplicity of it. No longer was he going to allow avoiding making a choice to be someone's choice. They have to line up one way or another.

With that thought a deep exhaustion fell over Harry so he crawled back into bed and fell deeply asleep for the first time in several days.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Waking up slightly stiff but well rested, Harry listened for any noises. It was surprisingly quiet and Harry began to wonder what the Dursleys' were doing. Putting on some of Dudley's old cloths Harry walked over to his door and tried to open it. "Locked again," Harry muttered more out of frustration than any real conviction. This was because Harry had discovered an easy way to extricate himself from the room. Taking a toy robot arm that Dudley had gotten three Christmases ago, but long forgotten, Harry reached through the cat door Uncle Vernon had installed to push food through on a aperiodic basis. Using the clenching handle Harry had discovered he was able to flip each of the locks. Fortunately Uncle Vernon had only installed bolt locks that were all within the reach of the toy arm. It took a little practice, but he soon jimmied each lock, allowing the door to be opened completely undetected. Harry knew it was going to be difficult to lock the door again. However it was a small price to pay for the freedom it offered.

You see, his aunt and uncle would never leave the house if they knew that Harry could be walking around unimpeded. The locks gave them a sense of security that Harry had no interest in eliminating. Regardless he was hungry and there didn't seem to be anybody in the house anyway. Harry made his way down the steps cautiously just in case one or more of his extended family were in the house waiting. After walking around for a few minutes Harry became convinced that he was there alone. Feeling the dull ache of hunger replacing other concerns, Harry made his way to the kitchen and began making a healthy breakfast.

Dudley, Harry's cousin and chief tormentor for much of his life, was no longer fat so his Aunt Petunia had filled the house with real food again. Over the years, Dudley had radically changed physically. At first he was just a heavy set bully that relied upon his size to beat up the local kids. After becoming too heavy for his health and any clothes, Dudley began to exercise. Not just any exercise, but boxing, the sport of gentleman. The frightening thing was that Dudley excelled at this outlet. It was as if he found the one way to harness all his anger and focus it into something practical. In his fifth year Dudley began boxing kids three and four years older than him. Now that Dudley was entering his last year at Smeltings, he only had one year left before deciding what to pursue. His father had already said that there was a special position waiting for him at Grunnings, the drill company that Uncle Vernon managed. But Dudley wanted more. He was thinking of going professional once he was out of school. Already a increasing number of potential managers started hanging out at the school gym, waiting to see how he progressed as a boxer. With his change from portly teenager to a muscle bound young adult, Aunt Petunia ensure there was always plenty of food available for Dudley.

"Can't have him wasting away can we?" Uncle Vernon had gotten into the habit of saying. "A boy like him needs his meat" he would always follow up with. Uncle Vernon cherished his son's new strength. He would tell anybody he could about Dudleys' most recent bout. "Oh yes" Uncle Vernon would start with virtually any passerby he could corner " Dudley is dangerous. Why in his last seven fight he knocked his opponents out in the first three rounds. Nope that's my boy. Certainly a chip off the old block he is." Walking into the living room with the hope of watching the muggle news, Harry spied dozens of pictures of Dudley. Gone were the pictures resembling a pig with a bow on its head. The room now was festooned images of each of Dudley's fights. Standing over each of his vanquished opponents, Dudley would sneer into the camera, challenging anybody to doubt his skill or viciousness.

Just before switching the TV on, Harry heard a curious sound. It was a muffled grunt followed by a creaking noise. Interested, Harry set aside his tray and walked to the back of the house. Through the window in the back door Harry could see that the Dursleys has set up a practice area for Dudley. They had laid down a thick, red colored mat the size of a boxing ring and erected ropes around it to complete the image. Currently in the middle of the ring hung a heavy punching bag and Dudley was expertly working it. Harry was quite amazed at the speed at which someone as large as his cousin was still able to achieve, despite being a massive young man. After watching for a while Harry bit his lip and made the fateful decision. "Lets see what side Dudley will line up on" Harry rhetorically asked. He knew in his heart that Dudley would assuredly take the opportunity to hurt him, but he had to give him the chance.

Grimacing, Harry reached for the door handle with only a momentary regret that he hadn't gotten some of Fred and George's bruise healing paste before committing to this suicidal path. Stepping out into the back yard, he watched Dudley delivering devastatingly powerful blows to the bag. With each punch Dudley emitted a low pitched grunt that almost sounded like he found the act somehow pleasurable. About five minutes went by before Dudley noticed Harry standing there. Immediately Dudley backed away and shouted at Harry, "What are you doing here you freak! You shouldn't be out of your room!" Looking a little like a caged animal Dudley kept his hands up. Harry felt an unnatural calm spread over him, this was right and he was confident of that fact. Instead of rejoining Dudley's question, Harry simply asked, "Why do you like boxing so much?"

Suspicious, Dudley didn't answer he just kept his hands up and started looking for an escape route. But Harry had placed himself directly between the practice area and the house leaving Dudley no other option but to answer Harry. "What is it to you freak! Maybe I just like hitting people." Dudley caustically replied.

"Oh of that I have no doubt, having been your first punching bag I know how much you enjoy it" Harry factually commented.

Dudley was becoming increasing uncomfortable with this conversation. Normally they just traded verbal barbs, each trying to incite the other. This time Harry was different, not as confrontational.

"Care to show me some moves" Harry quite unexpectedly asked.

"What are you going on about?" Dudley responded in full confusion now. "I know you can't use your wand or they will kick you out of that freak school of yours."

"Oh its actually worse than that, I have been officially reprimanded and any use of magic and they will send me off to the wizard prison Azkaban. You know, the one guarded by dementors. You remember the dementors don't you? They were the creatures that attacked us a couple of years ago and sucked the happiness right out of you" Harry lied, but he wanted Dudley to take a chance on the belief that there were going to be any magical repercussions. It seemed to work. Dudley's hands dropped just slightly and he blanched at the memory of the dementors.

Taking advantage of the moment, Harry calmly walked over to a box of excess boxing equipment. He poked about for a moment and finally grabbed a pair of boxing gloves and began putting them on. Dudley's eyes narrowed as it just occurred to him that Harry wouldn't be able to use his wand, prison or not, if he had gloves on. Moving to the center of the ring Dudley lowered the heaving punching bag then rolled it under the ropes leaving the ring free from obstructions.

Harry stepped into the ring and held his hands up in vaguely the same manner he had seen Dudley's. Still unconvinced, Dudley threw a couple of light punches into Harry's gloves easily knocking them out of the way. Dudley began to smile in a cold, cruel fashion realizing that maybe dreams do come true. The next series of punches easily got past Harry's gloves each striking him lightly on his face. Emboldened, Dudley threw one solid hook directly into the side of Harry's head. Again Harry attempts to defend himself were hopeless and the impact landed Harry onto to the mat. Dudley loomed over Harry who for the first time began to doubt his strategy. But the expected flurry of blows didn't come while Harry was down. Instead Dudley backed up slightly and taunted him by saying "Get up you freak, I want to hit you again". Harry obliged and stood up, feeling a little wobble when doing so. But Harry began to realize something, for all Dudley's incredible power and remarkable speed he didn't have much timing. Timing was a critical skill for a seeker, who often had to grab an erratically moving Golden Snitch while moving at incredibly fast speeds on a broom all the while avoiding viciously aimed bludgers and the opponent seeker.

Switching strategies, Harry decided that standing toe to toe with Dudley was stupid at best and suicidal at worst. Alternatively, Harry started to move at a slight 45 degree angle favoring what he believed to be Dudley's weak side. Unfortunately, it turned out that Dudley didn't have a weak side and quickly lashed out with a deadly combination of punches whose sole intent was to cripple Harry. While Harry certainly did get hit, and hurt, and knocked down he wasn't as dazed as he had his first time. Getting up quicker than Dudley would have thought possible they began to move around each other. While Harry's strategy only delayed the inevitable outcome and began to visibly upset Dudley. Soon Dudley was issuing nasty criticisms with his punches like, "Get your hands up you freak! Come on you little queer, put your hip into your punches otherwise you'll always hit like a girl?" Dudley's comments got more severe, because every time Harry was knocked down he would bounce right back up. Dudley didn't know that Hogwarts had unexpectedly trained Harry in a very valuable boxing skill, he could continue on in the face of great physical pain. With each blow, Harry reminded himself, that wasn't as bad as falling off his broom or having his arm bones regrown overnight, or the hundred other injures he had sustained.

Eventually, frustrated Dudley swung so hard that it threw him off balance. Taking advantage of the situation Harry stepped in and threw a counterpunch that actually connected with Dudley's head. Admittedly it was a fairly weak punch, almost just a slap, but he had made contact nonetheless. This tap so surprised Dudley that he backed away from Harry and stared at him. It was if this was the first time Dudley had ever even really seen Harry. Exhausted, bruised, bloodied, and barely standing Harry stood in the center of the ring wobbling badly with one of his eyes already closed and the other threatening too.

Dudley finally dropped his hands and launched a series of invectives towards Harry, "You little faggot freak girl prick geek turd asshole this is my ring. This is my domain. I rule here and don't you ever forget that. The next time you step in here you better be prepared to die, because I'll rip your head off." Stripping off his gloves Dudley stormed toward the house. Surprisingly he stopped just before getting to the door and shouted over his shoulder, "You know if you weren't such a total gimp and had shortened your stance, you might have actually caught my attention with that last punch." Not waiting to see if Harry was going to reply Dudley stepped inside.

Harry wasn't going to reply, in fact Harry didn't know if he was going to live. He just stood there stupidly now knowing what to do next. The lawn chairs seemed miles away and he couldn't figure a way of negotiating past the ropes surrounding the ring in the first place. Lacking a better plan, Harry merely slumped down onto the mat, eventually rolling onto his back even though it hurt more; at least he could breathe that way. Long moments passed before he heard footsteps approaching him. At first hoping that it wasn't Dudley coming back to finish the job, then upon further consideration hoping that he would, Harry just laid there. The part of his brain that was still working began to register that something was wrong. The footsteps weren't quite right. After a couple more minutes Harry realized that there was a familiar cadence, a dull clunk that echoed every other step. Not moving, but talking past the pain in his jaw, Harry asked, "So did you like the show Professor Moody?"

Moody growled deeply and responded, "Again I don't know about this Professor claptrap, I never actually got a chance to be one." With strained pleasantries aside, Moody sat down beside Harry so that he could lift Harry's head just a touch. The pain was significant and Harry mumbled out past his rapidly swelling lips, "Whaa ar yoo don? Tha hrts."

Moody put a small bottle next to Harry's lips and drizzled a little bit of liquid into Harry's mouth. Though the potion tasted strangely salty, Harry's head seemed to clear a little. "Special formula, only used by Aurors. It'll fix you up quick enough" Moody clinically informed Harry, "Though you will never have another erection".

Immediately Harry began to cough and spit up the concoction, trying to get as much out of his mouth as he possibly could. By the time his eyes stopped watering and he could actually see Moody Harry was greeted with a most unusual sight. Mad eye was openly laughing, actually holding his sides laughing." "Got you there Potter, didn't I" Moody exclaimed while trying to get is breathing under control. "Aaaah! Never thought I would ever get to use that one. My first trainer, Behar Boonod, got me with that back when I was just becoming an Auror. Though I must say you fell for it far more than I did" Moody finished up as he wiped a tear from his one good eye, still occasionally letting go a quick snort. Harry failed to find any of this funny, but was noticing that he really was beginning to feel better.

In just a couple minutes time Harry was sitting up, feeling much better. "Wow that stuff works great." Harry remarked excitedly.

"Ya, but you'll pay for it later" warned Moody, "You'll sleep probably 12 hours tonight and have a tremendous appetite tomorrow morning, But otherwise you will be right as rain."

Harry found the strength to get up off the mat and stagger over to one of the backyard lawn chairs. He flopped down into it, groaning as he did so. "Who ever thought something as ordinary as a chair could feel so wonderful" reflected Harry.

After another pause in their conversation, Moody finally spoke up and said, "Mind you, I think it was really dangerous and more than just a little stupid, but it was also very brave. Dumbledore would have been proud." Harry winced upon hearing the headmaster's name. Although the path he has chosen wasn't intended to make Dumbledore proud; it was his path, his choice; he deeply appreciated Moody's sentiment nonetheless.

"You know, of course, that the muggle will never like you." Moody offered.

Harry thought about this and responded by saying, "Yes, I know, but he will have to choose not to like me. Hating me just because his parents told him to isn't acceptable anymore and the only way for him to make the choice is to see the options. Imagine how pathetic a life filled with prejudices that aren't really yours would be. I am determined that we will both know and that's all I can hope for."

Moody chuckled and said, "Yep you are Dumbledore's man through and though. I haven't a clue what you are getting on about, but I feel like I've just learned something important." At the same time as saying this Moody reached across and good naturedly tussled Harry permanently tussled hair.

"Well enough of all this sentimental bullocks. I'm actually here on business. Specifically what happens prior your birthday. Its still more than a month away and your protection will last until then. I am giving you this portkey that will activate at exactly 10 p.m. on the 28th of July. You should also know that it will only activate from your room. That should keep you settled …" Moody stopped for Harry's immediate objections.

"No way, I'm not staying here any longer and you can't make me!" Harry asserted.

"Oh yes, you are correct about that. Now let me offer you a choice. Every Dark Wizard in the world is hunting for you. Every corrupt Wizard will turn you over just to make a profit on the deal. Every scared Wizard, mind you that's an increasingly large number, is willing to turn you over to them thinking it save their own necks. Fools! The rest are busy just trying to keep things together. If you just blunder out of here you won't last a week. I know that you strong and brave, but that's just not enough right now. What matters is what you do and don't know about how real wizarding works, not the stuff you have learned in school" Moody explained.

"If you give us a while to prepare, you can go off on you own and do whatever it is that Dumbledore wanted you to do. Until then, trust us a little longer. We won't have Number 12 Grimmauld Place ready for you until then. Once there, we can show you just enough to keep you from exposing yourself. Afterwards… well that's your choice isn't it?" concluded Moody.

Frustrated with the idea of having to stay until his birthday, Harry peevishly asked, "Well can we start training immediately. Certainly the Ministry would allow me to practice in the interim despite the ban on underage magic."

"Actually, the Ministry seems more interested in keeping you ignorant. Its almost as if they think if you can't survive on your own, then you will be more likely to appeal to the for protection." Said Moody.

"Never!" spat Harry. "I'll never go crawling to them and become their posterboy."

"Good, I had hoped you would say that. As I know how the detection spell for underage magic works, I also know there are loop holes. You should expect someone in the next few days that can provide some rather useful training. Until then, sit tight and CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

The last statement so surprised Harry that he ended up knocking over his chair for trying to leap back. Sprawled out on his back Harry looked up to see Moody laughing once more. "Oh yes, before I go… "Moody began as he reached into his pocket and pulling out an old tin can. "This is a portkey that will activate five seconds before your birthday. Make sure you are ready. That and take this." Harry caught the small bottle of potion that had so revived him earlier. "Just in case you have any more boxing lessons"

Moody clunked his way out the back gate. Harry soon heard the familiar crack of Moody disapparating. Harry could feel himself slipping into exhaustion, whether it was the potion fading from his system or his body desperately needing rest after the morning workout, he made his way upstairs, took a quick shower, re-locked his door using the toy robot arm, fell into bed, and had another dreamless night.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Lessons

Harry awoke very early in the morning and was ravenously hungry. Had he really slept the entire day away? Moody's potion was stronger than he imagined. Getting up, Harry crept over to the door and tested it. He had was sure that the Dursley's wouldn't have unlocked it and he was privately proud of the fact he locked it last night to cover his tracks. Once again jimmying the locks, Harry cautiously opened the door and looked down the hallway. Locking the door behind himself, he moved as silently as his body would allow, through the hallway, past the sleeping Dursleys, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Food that is all he wanted. Opening the fridge he found a massive store of meats and cheeses and everything else his body craved. He ate until he couldn't fit in a single other piece of food.

Unfortunately, Harry had lost track of time. It was now early morning and he could hear the Dursleys coming down the stairs, groaning and stretching as they went. Harry panicked. While he wasn't afraid of his Uncle or Aunt anymore, he knew they could make his remaining stay even more miserable than normal. Looking about he realized his only option was to dart his old cupboard under the stairs. Making it just in time he heard them amble past the cupboard and enter the kitchen. When his Aunt Petunia opened the fridge he heard her exclaim, "My little Dudders must have come down for a midnight snack." Then becoming suspicious as she brought out the normal fixings for their breakfast she guarded asked Vernon, "Are you sure his door is locked?"

"Oh yes, checked it last night and again this morning. What he does in that room I don't know and I don't care. Just so long as he doesn't bother us." Vernon said confidently. Afterwards there was a long silence as his Aunt and Uncle went about their morning business. Then Harry overheard the most incredible news. Not only was Uncle Vernon going work, but so was Aunt Petunia! Apparently, with Dudley almost grown she was bored of being in the house alone and had gotten a job as a hair dresser. "Undoubtedly for the gossip" Harry thought sarcastically.

Shortly thereafter he heard the house door open and two sets of footsteps leaving. Harry's heart leapt as he realized that he would have the house all day. Going back upstairs, Harry unlocked his door and left it unlocked as he entered and lay onto the bed. Soon, he drifted off to sleep until he was awoken by the familiar sound of Dudley's morning workout. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to continue his experiment, Harry quickly went to the backyard. There was Dudley intently pounding away on the heavy bag again. This time, he wordless stopped and began removing the bag from the ring. Taking this cue, Harry put on the boxing gloves again and was surprised to find some head gear that he was almost sure wasn't there yesterday.

Closing his eyes momentarily because he knew what was to follow; Harry stepped into the ring and proceeded to get pummeled for the next hour. Throughout Dudley continued spewing his normal stream of invectives. However Harry began to notice that there were occasionally hints and what might be even construed as constructive criticisms buried in amongst the abuse.

Dudley left Harry much has he had the previous day. This time though Harry was prepared and took the barest of sips of the Auror's potion. He didn't want to sleep though another day, there was just too much to do. He would accept some creakiness in hopes of maybe getting some training. By the time Harry had gotten back into the house Dudley had left. He wondered briefly why Dudley hadn't told Uncle Vernon that his was out of his room yesterday. There was a sense that Dudley and Vernon weren't getting along like they used to and that might explain the omission.

Going back to his room Harry found Hedwig had return from his morning hunt with a mouse and copy of the Daily Prophet. It was filled with reports of murders and terror and not a single hopeful story. The Ministry had begun rounding up suspected Dark Wizards and other magical creatures whose loyalty wasn't "assured". Harry continued to read horrified that Scrimgeour was dismantling decades of Dumbledore's work. He finally threw the remaining pages into the dustbin unable to read any more. "You know they could have been our allies" calling out to no one in particular.

It was at that moment, the doorbell rang. Unsure of what to do Harry made his way to the front door and peered out of the peephole. It was Arabella Figg looking around nervously, while waiting for the door. Harry opened the door and allowed Arabella to hastily enter. Once the door was closed Harry asked, "Mrs. Figg, I didn't expect to see you today. How may I help you?"

"Ohh, charming as ever I see. Actually, I am here because Moody asked me to stop by. Apparently you need some training." Arabella said as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry stood there perplexed. "But you are a … I mean to say you… How can you... " Harry stammered not wanting to be rude.

"Teach you magic" Arabella finished. "That's just to show you how much you know about magic. Sure I can't do magic, but I can certainly use magic. Items that is" she added. "Headmistress McGonagall provided this box of magic objeccts and asked that I answer any questions you might have" Arabella said very proudly. Harry was unconvinced that Mrs. Figg could be of that great of help, but he took the box anyway and made for the dining room table.

Following him, she explained herself further, "How is it do you think that a squib like me gets to be part of the Order of the Pheonix you ask? Aren't they all supposed to be daring, powerful Wizards? Trained to counter Dark Wizards where ever they meet them? Hmmph! The reality is that a vast majority of work by the Order is gathering information and clues. Let the Aurors or the Magical Militia take on groups of ravaging Giants or Dark Wizards. What we do is find out what their plans are. Who is involved. Where they are. That sort of thing. Now a word of explanation, no magic must be performed by you or anyone else in this house or you will be blamed."

Harry remembered first meeting Dobby and the trouble that it caused. "Yes I know, but what good are magical trinkets if I can't use them?" Harry asked.

"Practically speaking, magic objects are magic spells that have already been cast and the effect just hasn't occurred yet. That's the trouble with most Wizards; they don't have the time for any of this stuff. They want results now. Ya know there was a time when no Wizard used wands and that they only became popular within the last couple hundred years or so" Arabella said matter of factly. Reaching into her handbag she pulled out a rather large dog-eared book whose title brightly exclaimed in white letters "A Squib's History of the Wizarding World: 782- Present, by Zinnous Howards" Harry could see that this book held a very dear place in Mrs. Figgs heart.

"Oh yes, I could have accepted my place like most squibs and gone to work on the farms, but I wanted more. Almost 30 years ago Dumbledore recruited me and I've never looked back." Her voice began to change and sounding more confident. Handing Harry the book she said "Here, it'll do ya some good to get some real history into you. Now lets get started before the Dursley's get back.

So began Harry's summer, his weekday mornings started with boxing Dudley. The sessions were becoming more intense and lasting longer; along with Dudleys taunts and criticisms. Oddly his door was being inexplicably unlocked each morning and he had heard Dudley telling his mother that it was him eating all the extra food at night. Harry didn't understand why Dudley was covering for him and he never asked in case his tentative ally would withdraw support if discovered.

His weekday afternoons were often spent at Mrs. Figgs or wandering around looking for a quiet spot to practice with the objects given to him. He had actually used a vacant house across the street until it sold to nice new couple. After that, Harry's research was more haphazard than he would have preferred. It was usually confined to the odd quiet moment during the day or late into the evening; if the Auror's potion didn't put him to sleep too early. It was far more interesting than he previously imagined. Each object was like a puzzle; they had buttons and switches and even functioned differently depending on in which hand you held them. So far Harry and gotten the healing stone to take care of his daily dose of black eyes and swollen lips and to remove his body order when he didn't want to take a shower. It was also helping to alleviate some of the muscle pain. In fact, one day he didn't even need to sip the Auror's potion to feel better.

Another cool object was a pair of glasses that made magic objects glow slightly red when looking through them. He was sure that with some more practice he would maybe even be able got get the color to change depending on the type of magic. He imagined charms would glow blue, transfiguration green, and so on. In fact, he was thinking of transforming these glasses to look like his normal ones as soon as he could do magic again. He had briefly toyed with the idea of just wearing them, but they were a hideous shade of gold with fake diamonds all around them. "Probably some witch in the 1700s thought they looked good then, Yuuuck!" Harry thought. In addition there were lots of items that seemed to have limited power, but relieved a Wizard for doing various basic tasks, such as magical compasses, and maps that followed you around, even one called a chain-owl message. If you were on a budget, you could fill out one letter multiple times and when it was delivered the right message would appear for the right reader. The owl would then deliver it to the next person and so on.

It was only his weekends and evenings that were truly wretched now. That is when Dursley's were home and they were beginning to suspect something. First Harry didn't seem nearly miserable enough. In those sparse times they actually noticed him, Harry was frequently quietly humming to himself or simply gazing off into the distance trying not to make eye contact. This infuriated Vernon to no end as he expected Harry to be more despondent at the thought of leaving them. "With all we have done for him, he should show it a more. I mean the locks are for his good and we feed him every day, what more could the ungrateful whelp want!" Vernon growled to his wife. She however had noticed something quite else. Dudley wasn't being as openly antagonistic of Harry in their presence. In fact, Dudley acted like he didn't even see Harry anymore. Harry was able to hide the last thing under the big bulky clothes he was forced to wear. Harry's muscles had begun to harden and he took on the vague countenance of a swimmer or runner.

So it went until the 28th of July. He was excited beyond anything he could express. "So this was it, this would be the last day I would ever be in this house." Harry joyfully thought. "Soon I will be at Number 12 Grimmauld and my life can really start." Feeling magnanimous, Harry sought out his Uncle to say his goodbyes. This had little to do with wanting to end his life with the Dursleys on a good note. Instead he believed that, as an adult, this is what he should do. Harry had carried the burden of adult responsibilities enough that he was convinced of the rightness of the action.

It was early evening, about an hour before his Uncle and Aunt would go to bed and he couldn't find them anywhere. Eventually he stepped out into the front yard, checking to see if the car was there. It was so they had to be somewhere close. Poking his head around the side yard, Harry finally spied the two of them together. Aunt Petunia was standing very erect and looking even more pensive than usual. Uncle Vernon was on the ground apparently checking out the foundation.

As Harry approached he could see that his Uncle Vernon was in a particularly ugly mood. From the snips of conversation he could overhear, a crack was forming in the foundation of Number 4, Privet Drive and looked to be a very expensive crack at that. Steeling himself, Harry strode up to Uncle Vernon who was still on the ground, stuck out his hand, and exclaimed, "I am leaving this evening, never to return, and I wanted to shake you hand goodbye."

Vernon glared at the offered hand as if it was something filthy. Already colored red from the exertion and frustration of examining the foundation he rose up from the ground, fists bundled, and launched in to a tirade, "That's right! Use us up and throw us away! All those years we fed you the food from our very mouths, clothed you from the clothes on our backs, housed you from the sweat of our brow, and took care of each and every one of your whiney little needs! For all this what we do we get?! A handshake! A miserable little handshake from a miserable little ungrateful whelp! Well fine! Leave us, get out of here, and abandon us like you have abandoned everything else."

With every word Vernon's ham sized fists raised higher and began shaking.

Once started Vernon couldn't control himself and assaulted Harry with all the venom in his heart, "You drained every bit of life and love this family has every felt! You have destroyed my home, my health, and even turned my own son against me!!! I will strangle the life out of you with my bare hands!" Screaming Vernon leaped forward to grab Harry. A month and a half ago he may have actually gotten a hold of him, a month and a half ago Harry may have wanted him to. Not now. Harry easily sidestepped Vernon's charge and pulled out his wand.

Holding it threatening, Harry yelled at Vernon, "Oh no you don't old man! I have been beaten and bullied enough by you and I am never going to let it happen again. I leave here in three hours, I will no longer be underage in three days, so if you touch me again expect me three minutes after that!"

Seeing the wand immediately deflated Vernon. He hated and feared magic. Blustering in order to save what dignity he had left, Vernon ordered Harry to go to his room. Meanwhile, Petunia was looking around and seeing all the neighbors coming out of their houses to see what the commotion was. She pleaded with the both of them to get back into the house.

Harry no longer cared, but going to his room was no worse that standing out here. He spun on his heal and stormed into the house, up the stairs, and slammed the door with all his might. "To hell with them, to hell with them all" was all Harry could think.

About a hour before leaving Harry heard his door opening, thinking it might be Uncle Vernon coming to threaten him one last time he stood waiting for the door to completely open. Instead of his uncle it was Dudley. He looked angry enough to rip Harry's head off and his size and clenching hands indicated he was fully ready to. Filling the doorway Dudley seemed to be considering his options. Boxing had taught Dudley to approach an opponent cautiously. Stepping into the room he gauged whether he could reach Harry before Harry could get his wand out. Convinced that he could, Dudley took another step and raised one massive fist to Harry's head. Harry was genuinely frightened now, as he knew Dudley could pummel him into non-existence before Harry could respond with any spell. "Why didn't I learn more about wordless magic last year? The difference in time could have saved me" Harry chided himself.

"You didn't touch him, that's the only reason why you are still alive." Dudley said in the coldest voice he had ever heard. "Now go and never come back." After a moments pause, Dudley turned his massive frame around and stepped towards the door. Relieved Harry let go of the air in his lungs as a long sigh and lowered his eyes for a moment. In that incredibly small space of time, Dudley wheeled about and brought his fist within a fraction of an inch of Harry's face. Being caught completely off guard, Harry clumsily threw himself backward onto his bed.

"Made you flinch, you bleeding freak." Dudley said a deadly cold voice.

Then Dudley quickly stepped out the door, closing it forcefully behind him.

Ten minutes before leaving Harry had all his stuff ready and was holding the old tin can in anticipation of the familiar tug behind his navel. He also had his wand ready, in case there were any more visits from Dudley. An odd thought occurred to him, "I've never traveled via portkey with possessions and wonder if the trunk will actually be pulled along with me. Oh my gosh, what about Hedgwig?" Immediately dropping the portkey Harry quickly released Hedwig from his cage and instructed him to meet him at Number 22 Grimmauld. By the time Hedwig was out the window he turned to find Aunt Petunia uncomfortably standing inside his door. She cautiously closed the door and began to speaking in a nervous voice, "I have something that is yours. I should have given this to you a long time ago."

She opened up the sleeve of her sweater and pulled out an ancient looking envelope that had large looping handwriting on the outside. "This was left with you."

"Why give it to me know?" Harry asked hardly believing his eyes. "I'm leaving and it can't tell me anything I don't already know."

"Well" , continued Petunia in a nervous voice "its contents can never harm us again if you take it and go. Otherwise you may come back for it some day and I can't allow that to happen". Offering it, Harry stepped forward to accept it, but caught sight of the clock. He only had seconds before the portkey activate. Scooping down to grab the portkey, Harry changed direction as soon as it was firmly in his grasp. He could make it.

Ten…

Nine… almost there

Eight… I can feel it

Seven… Its in my hand

Six… I've got it!

Fiv… KABOOM!!!

Harry's door exploded inward slamming him back against wall and tossing Petunia to one side as the lights went out. The force of the blow was so hard that the portkey slipped from his grasp. Falling to the floor he saw horrible black skinned creatures with ghostly green eyes rushing into the room. They pinned him to the ground and he felt a sharp needle prick into the side of his neck. Immediately the room began to swim and fade. His last memory was of seeing the envelope a quarter of an inch from his grasp and being unable to reach out to grab it.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Education (interlude)

Headmistress Pro Tem McGonagall was using a quill last used by Albus Dumbledore, while sitting at a desk last used by Albus Dumbledore, in an office last used by Albus Dumbledore, at a school last run by Albus Dumbledore. He was everywhere and no where. She was completely overwhelmed by the volume of parchments that came whizzing in and out of her office. Everyone from the Minister of Magic, to the many departments under him, to all twelve members of the Board of Governors, to countless parents, to members of the Order of the Phoenix, to the Headmasters of the other magical schools, to the staff at Hogwarts and all wanted updates and statuses and information and assistance and thousand other details. She never realized how difficult the position of Headmistress was until she first sat down at this desk. It was if the world expected her to solve all their problems.

On top of everything else, she never knew how little she new about the school itself. She never knew of that all of the houses at Hogwarts had secret societies, that both the Department of Mysteries and the Auror's had office's on the third floor and neither new of the other, that the suits of armor actually formed a internal surveillance network, and there were no less than 12 hidden passages to Hogmeade, and the house elves… who would have ever imagined.

It was all too much. She turned to Albus' picture for the one hundredth time that day desperately wanting advice, but that's not how it works. Above all else, that was the greatest disappointment to learn was that pictures don't give advice. They can perform small errands, answer specific factual questions from their personal histories, and even report what is happening outside of their other paintings. And that was all. Minerva needed advise right now, not more information. Worst of all was that Albus' picture seemed to be missing large portions of his memories, almost as if they had been removed prior to his death. She and the Minister of Magic had interrogated the painting at length in the initial day's of being Headmistress. Every time they got close to the subject of Voldemort and Harry Potter's special training, Albus' painted counterpart would squeeze his brows together and concentrate for the longest time before giving the same answer, "I don't remember". If his memories aren't in the painting, then where and why did he hide them? Her deep abiding love and admiration for Albus was beginning to tarnish.

Driven by frustration and anger, Minerva turned to Albus' painting and demanded "Why did you keep so much from me? I have never been so unprepared; it's as if I am a first year taking my NEWTs!"

Waking up from his sleep the painted Albus straightened its glasses and peered out of the painting directly at Minerva. "My dearest Minerva, you cannot imagine how much it grieves me to see you like this. Unfortunately, I don't know why I kept so much from you. In point of fact, since I have no memories of me actually hiding information from you, I don't know that I did keep anything from you." the painted Albus offered explanatorily.

"Then what am I to do?" asking the same question that she had every day since becoming Headmistress Pro Tem. She had asked it so many times that it had become rhetorical.

Interestingly paintings are not able to catch many linguistic subtleties, rhetoric and sarcasm usually being amongst them, so the painting faithfully responded with "I don't know what you should do" in an infuriatingly sympathetic voice.

Giving up on getting anything useful from the painted Albus, Minerva resorted, for the first time of her life, to viscous sarcasm and asked, "What were you thinking then when you recommended me to be the next Headmistress? Obviously I am not prepared to continue on in your footsteps. "

It was with this question the painted Albus changed his entire countenance and leaned forward to conspiratorially to say, "That is an excellent question and one that I can actually answer. My dear Minerva, you were my first choice, because you can do what no other Witch or Wizard in the world can do. I love Hogwarts, each and every aspect of it. I love the ghosts, the walls, the history, and most of all I love the traditions. Hogwarts is a beacon that has shown out across the darkest of ages and remained true to the original goal of teaching every witch and wizard who would come to us. I gave my life to continue this tradition. Now it is left to you to perform the most powerful transformation magic that has ever occurred and do what I could not. Minerva you must destroy Hogwarts."

Having made this proclamation the painted Albus moved back to his padded chair, stretched his arms, and drifted off to a deep slumber.

Dazed by what she had just heard, Minerva dropped the quill she had been holding and sat abruptly back into her chair. He couldn't be serious! He can't be!


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – The Question

The light hurt Harry's eyes, which was surprising given that they were currently closed. He didn't want to open them because he believed that it would only make his head hurt worse. What was happening? He felt vaguely disjointed and unable to properly focus. Was there an accident? His mind eventually pieced together that an explosion had occurred. But what caused it?

"Voldemort!" Harry shouted as he sat up. "They must have somehow gotten through the defenses and captured me." Harry's thoughts raced. Opening his eyes he looked fitfully around his surroundings. Unfortunately without his glasses all he could make out was that he was in a stark white room with a machine to his immediate left beeping extremely fast rate. He felt an odd tugging sensation in his left arm and determined that there were some sorts of hoses connected to him. Reaching with his right arm he started checking for a night stand that might have his glasses on it. "I must be in some sort of muggle hospital." Harry apprehensively thought to himself. "Maybe there was some sort of accident and not an attack by Voldemort."

As Harry rocked his body to the left in order to grope for his glasses on that side, he heard a very calm, cultured voice say "Are you looking for these?" Though his vision was foggy he could distinctly see the form of a darkly dressed approaching him. Once this man was in arm's reach, he gently offered Harry what were quite possibly his glasses. Reaching out with his right hand he discovered that he was correct and swiftly put them on. He was greeted with the sight of an older man who reminded him of the former head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Crouch, when he has seen him at the Quidditch finals. He was impeccably dressed in a business suit, with tightly combed hair. Although he didn't have a mustache, Harry sensed that Mr. Crouch and he could have been cut from the same cloth.

"Thank you" Harry managed to croak out. His throat was extremely dry and hurt. To his right the unfamiliar machine began to steadily decrease the rate of its beeping. Harry assumed that it must have been monitoring his heart rate since he was already feeling calmer.

"Oh no problem, would you care for a glass of water?" the man pleasantly asked.

Harry didn't want to use his voice again so he nodded his head.

The man reached to the side of Harry's bed and retrieved a brownish plastic pitcher. From it the man poured a small amount of water into a clear plastic cup and handed it to Harry. The water was very refreshing and Harry soon felt comfortable enough to use his voice again.

"What happened, where am I?" Harry asked disjointedly. His brain still felt foggy and he found it difficult to put together whole sentences.

"Both good questions, but I must insist that you first tell me how you are feeling. Do you hurt anywhere? Anything feel broken?" man asked in a cordial voice.

"No, I seem to be all in one piece." Harry said after scanning his arms and legs. He was sore, but nothing that was overly painful.

"How about your head, any pain?" The man asked.

Harry lightly massaged his temples and said, "Slight headache, I've experienced worse."

"Quite the trouper, I see. Good, very good. It seems my extreme rendition team performed their task admirably. I have to admit that I was concerned once the explosives went off and the lights went out. It is rather easy to lose control of a situation in the resulting confusion.", the man continued in his cordial tone.

The unfamiliar machine to Harry's right started beeping wildly as he abruptly realized that he was still in trouble and that this man was not some kindly doctor. "What? Wha… wha… what's going on? Who are you?" said Harry stammering. Instinctively, he searched the bedding around him for his wand, but found nothing.

"Again, the questions you pose are most reasonable given the situation. However the most pertinent one in this situation is not who am I, instead it is what are you, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't know what you mean! I was at home when we were attacked and that's all I know. Where's my Aunt? Is she ok?" Harry thoughts were erratic.

"It is commendable that you are concerned with your Aunt's welfare. Let me assure you she is well and unharmed. Now you do seem to have rather quick wits about you, hence I will cut to the chase as it were. The verbal technique you are attempting is called deflection and is statistically used most often in two circumstances: One, when an individual is guilty of an act; Two when an individual is attempting to delay. As to the first, you are a magic using being, given that my research demonstrates that individuals such as yourself exist as a genetic variation of humans, you cannot be guilty of it. No more than you could be guilty of being dark haired or thin. As to the second, I have no doubt that you have a goodly number of individuals searching for you using various magical techniques. Given that I have no ability to hinder this activity I wish to take full advantage of our limited time together." The man said in the same friendly tones.

"But who are you and what do you want of me?" asked Harry. The incessant beeping in the background slowed with his creeping belief that this man meant him no immediate harm. That and Harry found the thoughts of his friends looking for him comforting.

"Again, given our time constraints I would like to answer your question conceptually. Have you had much opportunity to watch much television, specifically crime dramas?"

"Ya, a few I guess, but what are you talking about?" Harry answered.

"That is a total of nine questions in fewer than five minutes, given the likelihood that you are still experiencing a mild state of shock, it indicates a rather inquisitive mind. But I digress, conceptually in this drama I am what is commonly referred to as the good cop. By using even vocal intonations, smiling, and offering small honest compliments, it is my intent to gain your trust. Unfortunately for every Ying there must be a Yang. If I may be so bold I will introduce my counterpart, bad cop." Stepping to one side, Harry could see another man entering into the room. Unlike the one before him who was rather smartly dressed, this one was in a military uniform. He approached Harry's bed with perfect thirty inch steps coming to a stop so fast there was a faint click of his heals. The soldier opened a folder with a precise flick of the wrist and began reading in clipped tones.

" Name: Harry James Potter, Birthday: 31 July 1980, No siblings. Mother: Lily (Evans) Potter, Died 31 Oct 1981, One sibling: Petunia Dursley, of #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging. Father: James Potter, Died 31 Oct 1981, no further information. Known associates, Ronald Weasley, no further information. Hermionie Jane Granger, no Siblings, Birthday 19 Sept 1979. Parents: Fredrick Hermes Granger and Jane Elizibeth Granger of 7702 Westing Avenue Peterbourgh. Occpations: Dentist and Dentist"

"Oh I think that is quite enough bad cop. Our quick witted friend has already figured out that we are threatening his friends and their families. In case you are interested the list is actually quite extensive. Should we have sufficient time I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss the relevance of 'no further information' in our databases. It creates a very interesting and distinct pattern. But enough of shop talk." Smiling gently at the man in the military uniform, he wordless requested to be left alone with Harry again. Showing no emotion, the soldier did an incredible precise about face and marched from the room."

Once again alone, "Before continuing I have something of yours that you would probably like returned. May I approach you" the man asked

Warily, Harry nodded his head, signaling that it was ok.

After stepping to the side of the bed, Harry was completely surprised to see that the man had pulled a wand from his inside breast pocket. Instantly recognizing it Harry exclaimed "My wand!" He was further shocked when the man calmly handed it to him.

The man now stepped away from the bed allowing Harry every opportunity to cast a spell. Looking directly at Harry the man continued, "Now that I returned an item of extreme value to you, I ask for one small favor before you either magic yourself away or blow us all to smithereens. I have a single question that it is most perplexing to me, may I ask it?"

Feeling emboldened with his wand now in hand, Harry was confused and very, very curious. So he nodded his head once more in assent.

"Since I am no longer in a position of power, let me introduce myself as Dr. Millard Randels at your service. The question itself comes at the end of a rather lengthy discussion, so let me apologize up front for my unintentional loquaciousness. Not understanding magic or the magical community, what I have been able determine is that members have the ability to focus so called mystical energies through an apparatus called a wand in order to produce an extraordinarily wide variety of positive effects. By positive, I mean that there exists a direct relationship between intent and manifestation. The effects themselves, exceeding any possible naturalistic explanation, operate in direct opposition to the fundamental laws of the known universe. Now any first year debate student would counter that the laws we call fundamental are actually a subset of a larger set of laws that would account for all observed behaviors. Therefore our codification is overly simplistic and needs to be modified. Unfortunately, there exists a fallacy with this construct. Namely, all organic processes are subject to evolutionary pressures. It is an easy assertion that, evolutionarily speaking, you are a far fitter biological entity. Now before I ask my simple question do you understand what I have said so far?"

Harry hated feeling stupid, but there were too many foreign concepts for him to say yes. He desperately wanted to know way Dr. Randels had gone through so much just to ask a question. "I'm sorry, but no, I don't understand" said Harry.

"Thank you for you candidness. Let me rephrase. If we were on a deserted island, who do you think would have an easier time of it? It is my opinion that that it would be you. Imagine, a coconut suspended in a tree. You could magic it down. I would have to either climb the tree or create some sort of ballistic projectile to knock it down. If you wanted fire, you would just create it. I would have to rub two sticks together at a sufficient rate to cause the resulting friction to ignite the wood. When hungry, you could magic a diner in front of you. When tired you could magic a bed and shelter. If attacked by a wild animal you could magically defend yourself. In all these situations my level of effort would be tremendous, while yours would be insignificant."

Dr. Randels walked back and forth in front of Harry's professorially while explaining this. Keeping his arms tucked behind his back he continued with his explanation "Now imagine that we discovered a woman on this island. Being practical and in a survival situation, it is reasonable to assume that she would align herself with you. Extrapolating this scenario, it is therefore far more likely that any offspring produced by her would be of your linage not mine and so on if we continued to add magic using and none magic using people to our island. What I am referring to here is basic evolutionary theory. Meaning that those life forms that are best able to exploit their environment for resources are the most likely to survive. I do apologize, Mr. Potter, but out of personal curiosity I must asked one more question before my last. Does the magical community accept the tenets of the Theory of Evolution?"

Harry knew that Hagrid often practiced a form of animal husbandry. In fact, Hagrid had once bred a blast ended skoot illegally. But Harry had never heard any Theory of Evolution. All his classes indicated that except for development of new spells, the magical community was as it always had been. "No I've never heard of it, but I've never heard of a lot of things in our world." Harry offered. He had originally wanted to say that Hermione would probably know until the thought of her being captured and brought here, where ever here was, shocked Harry back to reality. Dr. Mills was dangerous and Harry had to be cautious.

"Hmmm how interesting. Before our time ends let me finish. If what I have said is true of magical people, then logically it would also be true of magical animals and plants. Magic should make it easier to survive and therefore magicial life will eventually beat out the non-magical varieties. This is my question to you then, why is the magical world getting smaller?"

Harry just stared at Dr. Randels. "Was he correct? Is he trying to trick me? What was this all about?" danced Harry's thoughts. "Didn't the giants and goblems once roam across most of Northern Europe? And I remember Professor Binns going on about how dragons were so numerous at one time they would blot out the sun during their yearly migrations. Migrations that, according to Charlie Weasley, haven't occurred in over a century. That and why is Hogsmeade the only fully wizarding community in Britain? I remember someone once telling me that Hogsmeade was founded by a Wizard fleeing muggles. Couldn't he have just blasted them?" Nothing made sense to him any longer, every impression screamed that Dr. Randels was right, we are shrinking. But how is that possible.

Intently watching the internal debate within Harry, Dr. Randels casually moved aside him and whispered into his ear, "We share the same enemy, Voldemort, please let me help."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – The Rescue?

Harry's eyes opened wide as he stared at Dr. Randels. "He knows something," Harry thought "about magic that no other wizard knows. Could a muggle really help?"

Incongruous with the discussions so far Dr. Randels stood up and made a particularly odd request, "While it is on my mind Mr. Potter I would sincerely appreciate the opportunity to seeing the simplest of magics performed. Could you show me one spell, no matter how remedial?"

Being no reason not to Harry, raised his wand and said "Lumos". Immediately a soft white beam of light shown out of Harrys wand. Turning to the doctor in order to see his reaction Harry was surprised to see Dr. Randels with is eyes momentarily closed and taking a deep calming breath.

It was at that moment four deafening cracks occurred in quick succession. Harry recognized Moody's voice barking orders, "Tonks, Jones secure the entrance. Lupin take out their eyes." In a flash the two women were out the door, wands ready. Lupin rapidly began scanning the room with what looked to be an overly large magnifying glass and occasionally firing freezing charms to spots on the walls. Meanwhile, Moody was frightful to witness. His held his wand stiffly out in front of him pointed directly at the heart of Dr. Randels and his was magic eye spinning so fast to almost make you dizzy. "Do move, don't even think about it" he finally said.

All the while Dr. Randels peacefully watched the events as if they were the most common of occurrences. Lupin finished examining the room stood at a marked angle from Moody before also pointing his wand at Dr. Randels heart. A moment later Tonks, currently sporting violently pink hair, and Hestia reentered the room leading the soldier who had read to him from the file completely bound in ropes and slightly elevated from the floor.

"The rest of the building was empty except for this one" Tonks informed Moody.

"Find and disarm any muggle elekric eyes and ears. That and they always have some of those puter' brains about. Bring them here." Moody ordered. Lupin automatically shifted his stance to watch over the soldier, leaving Tonks and Hestia free to once again leave the room.

On her way out Tonks quickly looked over her shoulder and said "Wotcher, Harry!" while winking her eye "Hey Moody I'll be right back, so don't kill anybody until then, ok?"

Moody merely grunted. With the situation under full control, Moody relaxed only the barest amount and asked "Are you ok Harry, Has this muggle hurt you in anyway?"

Harry was so relieved to see Moody and Lupin he blurted out, "No, I'm fine. Really I am. Dr. Randels has here hasn't hurt me at all, except I guess when they first took me, that felt none to good." Realizing his last comment only made the situation tenser he added "Seriously I'm fine and look they gave me back my wand and everything." He held up his wand for everyone to see.

Turning his attention to Dr. Randels, "So you ya just decided to have him over for some tea huh, muggle. Have you done anything to him?"

"We applied 15ccs of a mild anesthetic prior to transport. Since then I have been continuously monitoring his condition with the equipment beside his bed. You may check to strip charts if you wish." Dr. Randels motioned to a device that looked like a printer against the wall, "By the way are they all ok?"

This question seemed to throw Moody off his guard and he suspiciously eyed the doctor before responding, "They'll be fine, we took them to St. Mungo's. They are receiving care and will have their memories modified prior to release."

Dr. Randels straightened his shoulders and formally stated, "At this time let me assume full responsibility for all actions of my men. They were briefed that the safe capture and extrication of all the individuals living at Number 4 Privet drive was imperative to national security. As to whom Mr. Potter was or the nature of the tactical scenario they were not informed. If there is to be any repercussions for this act, let them be directed against me."

"We already knew that you sent your men in unprepared to meet Wizards", Moody responded dryly. The thought men being sent to their possible deaths without knowing what they were up against was reprehensible.

"Really sir, how does one prepare for 'Wizards'? The only protection I could offer them was ignorance. My research indicates that we 'muggles', to use your vernacular, are routinely taken and released so long as we are not a threat. Not that it was likely any of Mr. Potter's protectors would actually come to harm in the first place; you should know that all our weapons carried non-lethal ammunition. Furthermore, your statement implies that you have magical techniques in order to extract information from an individual, magical or otherwise. I therefore volunteer for any such procedure. You will find that I am being completely honest with you." Randels offered.

Lupin was getting tired of all this chit chat. "Lets just take Harry and get out of here." He exclaimed, "We can let an Obliviator team clean all this up."

"No." said Harry. Remembering Lockhart he thought of Dr. Randels mind turning to goo, thereby losing whatever secret that lay in there. "He wants to help." Said Harry. Finishing the thought only in his mind he added "and I can't beat Voldemort alone."

Both Moody and Lupin looked agast. It was Lupin who spoke first saying, "Was your brain addled when you were captured? He attacked you. The only reason we found you was that the Improper Use of Magic Office detected your spell and we came immediately. We had hoped that you would be able the get your wand back to send us a message."

Turning to Dr. Randels Harry said accusingly,"You wanted this to happen didn't you?"

"Yes Mr. Potter, think of it as a resume, I needed to get into the magical world and you are my ticket." Randels replied perfectly unabashed. "I've heard stories that if you are knowledgeable about computers and want to work for a major corporation, you hack into their system and send them an offer letter; hire me and I will make sure this doesn't happen again. When I was first requested by the Prime Minister to respond to the threat of Voldemort…" Randels paused for a moment to observe the reactions of the Moody and Lupin who had flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name. "As I was saying when the Prime Minister personally requested me to supervise our operations I found a dearth of relevant data. Oh yes there is an endless parade of charlatans and swindlers that pretend to be 'wizards', that is when I decided that I must meet you Mr. Potter."

"Bullocks" said Hestia Jones as she entered the room. Everyone turned to she was she was so agitated about. "That's right, bullocks Dr. Randels. I am personally involved with monitoring everything that comes in or out of the Prime Minister's office and he never requested your help."

"I would quite have to disagree. It was June 28 of last year at 10 p.m. I was asked to attend a late meeting with the Prime Minister. On the way in I was fortunate to meet Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who is undoubtedly a wizard; though I confess I did not know that until after my meeting the Prime Minister. In fact I did not know that there was anything such as magic prior to that meeting. That piece of information has quite changed my life I can assure you."

"Just a second, I remember that meeting. It was right after He Who Must Not be Named started openly attacking muggles. You all remember, the giants had just attacked the West Country and we had Dementors breeding all over the place. We all thought it was strange the Prime Minister would want to talk to you about the weather." Hestia said.

"You have quite a good memory, miss. But you are still quite incorrect that the meeting had anything to do about the weather. Upon entry I noted several inconsistencies that prepared me for a rather special conversation. There were ashes on the antique rug in June and the fireplace hadn't been used for months amongst others. The most striking detail was the clocks on his wall. You may not be aware of this but the time system installed by the Prime Minister is one of the most accurate in the world, good to one part in one million." Randels looked at Hestia for a second.

"So, I've never really looked at it. Garish thing really, not like the nice one next to it" said Hestia.

"Pity, because you would have noticed that it was almost half a second off at that time, and from all reports almost 30 seconds off now, whereas the reproduction of John Harrison's H-4 clock is well within tolerance. That is impossible. Fortunately, British society was given a most excellent quote in dealing with impossibilities by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Not having that available I would have been most incapacitated during the ensuing discussion. The Prime Minister attempted to determine if I had noticed the time disparity, I confirmed by lying about just having arrived from James Harrison's apartment, the clock's maker from the late 1700s. The Prime Minister started sprinkling all sorts of magical adjectives into the conversation, it was almost comic in hindsight, but given the situation probably warranted. I voiced by skepticism and he assured me otherwise. Accepting my new charge I did the same as he. Lastly he provided my with Mr. Harry Potter's name. The rest, as they say, is history."

Hestia Jones and the other wizards were all amazed as they considered the implications. For months how many people have through the Prime Minister's office and they had never realized that watchers were being watched.

By then Tonks returned carrying two laptops, or at least what was left of two laptops. She considered the awkward silence before setting them down and humorously asking "You weren't talking about me were you?"

Dr. Randels noted the others were taken aback by his admissions, so he took the occasion to request that his fellow muggle be released. Moody cautiously examined the military man with his magical eye. He found no weapons and to Moody that meant the military muggle was harmless. Finally assenting he nodded to Hestia to remove the spell that held him.

Deftly catching himself from falling backwards when the magical bonds disappeared, Colonel Franklin rubbed his wrists helping the blood to return to his extremities. "Wondered when you get around to that." Franklin flatly said.

"Quite sorry there, I wanted to make our guests feel at home before adding another player. Everyone, I would like to introduce Colonel Franklin. Colonel Franklin, and please correct me if I am wrong, this is Alaster Moody, Remus Lupin, Nymphodora Tonks, and embarrassing I only know the this young ladies last name, Miss. Jones.

This was the fourth time in fifteen minutes that Moody felt like the muggle had the advantage over them and he was tired of it. Moody and the other members of the Order of the Phoenix hadn't slept for over a day while looking for Harry. The muggle military men that they had made short work of back at the house had each proved to be red herrings. Moody realized after apparating to a dozen bogus drop locations that the muggle's were intentionally misinformed concerning the details of the extrication plan. It was obvious now that the soldiers were intended to be captured to lead his team away from the Harry. Tired and pissed off Moody just wanted answers, not more games. Somehow this muggle had gotten Harry's confidence in such a short period of time that he suspected magic.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't turn you into a toad and be done with ya?" Moody threatened. At that time the irrepressible Tonks chose to add, "Or a pin cushion, I do a really mean pin cushion."

"How about that Harry, doesn't want you to?", replied Randels.

"Fine, how about a second?", Moody fired back.

"I knew almost all your names, curious?", replied Randels.

"A third!", Moody sniped realizing that he was losing the verbal battle.

"How Col. Franklin and I captured Harry without magic.", replied Randels now stifling a yawn.

" A…" started Moody, but Lupin had thrown up his hands and interjected, "No more! Honestly this is getting us no where. We need to decide what to do. Unfortunately that means we need more information."

Addressing Randels directly, Lupin prompted him by saying "You were saying before we were distracted that the muggle Prime Minister asked you to find out about Voldemort?"

"Quite, Colonel Randels and I have been empowered by the British government to resolve this Voldemort issue before he destroys both our societies, first yours then ours. With any military engagement however we must learn about our enemy, hence my actions concerning Mr. Potter."

That was number five and now all of them were getting peeved at Randels, "Um, I'm not quite sure I caught that, what do you mean 'first yours'.", inquired Hestia slightly before the others.

"Certainly you are aware that Voldemort's actions will probably end the magical world as I have begun to know it within the next 100 to 150 odd years. Projections of this nature are extremely dicey given my admitted lack on knowledge and limited available data, but the climatologists have given us a great many mathematical tools recently that have been adapted for this purpose. I just needed to modify the heuristic models to account for non-linear interactions…" Randels professorially digressing onto a technical detail he found particularly intriguing.

"Oh I can't stand this anymore." said Harry interrupting for the last time. "Dr. Randels, would you like a job?"

"Obviously Colonel Randels will be accompanying me throughout, but that is exactly what I want." Randels said without the slightest hint of negotiation in his voice.

Looking back and forth between Randels and Harry, Moody said, "Ok, so long as he finally shuts up. My head is starting to hurt."

While Dr. Randels only courteously nodded assent at this remark, unseen by the others Colonel Franklin broadly smiled momentarily before regaining his professional military demeanor.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7- The battle

It was early morning deep within the forbidden forest. Mists still hung close to the ground, giving the appearance of a blanket of snow. It would soon disappear in the presence of the mid-summers sun. Oddly there was very little noise in the forest today. Very few birds sang a welcome to the morning sun. No crickets chirped in the thickets. The only movement at all came from a seething mass of acromantulas that busied themselves alongside a largish pond. Without ceremony they swarmed over each other forming a seething mass of activity. As each one was the size of a dog, the pile was quite large indeed. They only moved cautiously when one would find itself stepping away from the rest and then it would gingerly make its way across what can only be described as a fine mesh that lay upon the rocky beach on one side of the pond. Moving with all the grace and speed of a professional ballerina, one acromantula began to affix large rocks to one side of the mesh with a gooey secretion from its abdomen. Soon the mass broke into two groups and positioned themselves in equal numbers on either side of the mesh. One individual from each group then separated itself from the rest of their respective groups and moved towards the center of the mesh. These two stopped once they had reached equidistant points from each other and the groups they had just left. Freezing for some inexplicable reason the acromantulas almost appeared to be grotesque statues.

Finally a signal only detectable by themselves spurred every one of them into synchronous motion, resulting in a most amazing effect. The acromantulas on the sides started pulling on the edges of the mesh simultaneously stretching it while dragging it into the lake. The two in the middle zigzagged in concert ensuring that the rocks slid evenly forward and the mesh didn't catch on anything. As soon as the mesh was pulled into the water the side with the rocks quickly sank, leaving the rest floating on the surface. This was most likely due to small bubbles of the secretion that acted like floats and was secured to the top most line. Pulling the mesh evenly across the pond, the two groups then evenly split again with the third and fourth groups moving tangentially to the first two. As the new groups climbed up the banks opposent to each other, the mesh acted like a huge purse with its string now being pulled, very effectively capturing anything within it.

Just as the acromantulas were pulling at their absolute hardest to bring a bounty of fish, the screech of a bird could be heard. Almost immediately afterward the sound of the laboring acromantulas was supplanted by that of a good 15 bows firing from the woods. The rain of arrows struck at will, killing a couple immediately, wounding a number of others, but leaving the bulk of them unharmed. The centaurs now leaped from their hiding places and let loose another torrent of arrows. The acromantulas released the mesh and formed into tight little masses, with their front legs waving murderously in front of them and baring long, venomous fangs. The centaurs were aggressively attempting to keep the small groups separate and therefore vulnerable. Should they link up, the acromantulas could then protect their backside and send individuals out to attack the centaur archers.

Magorian barked orders to his group of warriors. Keeping six centaurs focused on pelting the groups with arrows, while Magorian, leading half dozen others, galloped furiously between the two groups stabbing at the mass of writhing legs with their spears. The centaurs' tactics successfully stalled the acromantulas from regrouping and was actually whittling down their numbers. Across the lake Bane's battleherd was having similar success. Wanting to press their advantage, Bane called out, "Move in! Move in and destroy them all!"

Hearing this Magorian attempted to shout across the lake, "No! Keep your distance!" But it was too late; Bane's Battleheard shifted from a harrying tactic and attacked the groups outright. Now with their focus exclusively on the masses, large numbers of acromantulas decended from the surrounding trees and leapt upon the unprotected archers. Screaming in pain, one centaur went down and was quickly silenced by the swarm of acromantulas upon him. Fortunately, the others had not suffered the same fate, but were forced to dashing about firing arrows behind them hoping to strike their pursuers. The chain reaction was instantaneous with the two groups under Bane's assault forming together and placing their backs to the pond. This change in the battle extended across the lake as Magorian wheeled about and charged with two of his battleherd those lone acromantulas decending from the trees. The distraction was enough to allow two groups to become one at the water's edge. It was obvious Magorian that the tide of the battle had turned. It was only a matter of time before the remaining two groups formed into a single mass, allowing them to outflank the centaurs, maybe even cutting them off.

"Gather round, protect the archers!", Magorian ordered his battleherd. Now the battle was in full pitch. Magorians centaurs valiantly stabbed with their spears and road down any acromantula that was separated from the rest. He was unable to spare the moments glance to see how Bane fared, instead focusing all his efforts in protecting his own battleherd. Inexorably the acromantulas crabbed along the edge of the lake until the centaurs could no longer safely move between them. Once this happened the acromantulas extended their lines forming a deadly barrier that nullified the centaurs speed. While the centaurs tried forming together the tactic was unsuccessful because they were no longer able to opportunistically shoot arrows into unprotected sides, abdomens, and where the thorax is soft right behind the eyes. Now the archers faced the wall of waving arms that batted away many of the arrows mid-flight. The archers also faced the problem that they had to fire through ranks of their own centaur protectors.

Wordlessly, the acromantulas moved forward as a group with the ones on the extreme edges moving faster creating a huge pincer closing in on the small contingent of centaurs. Instead of retreating Magorian called the remaining centaurs in to a tight knot, they stuck out there spears, now resembling a multi-legged porcupine. This only encouraged the acromantulas to charge even faster.

It was then the water behind them erupted with a dozen barbed hooks and trailing ropes that flew towards the oblivious swarm. Upon striking the ropes pulled taunt, sinking the hooks into their outer shell, and almost a dozen acromantulas found themselves flinging backwards into the pond whose surface boiled with unseen activity. As soon as one of the dog sized spiders struck the water clawed hands pulled them under and another hook jetted out of the water towards to spread out swarm. Not waiting a moment longer Magorian signaled his group to break apart thereby revealing the massive misshapen face and body of Grawp. Springing forward, Grawp swung his immense arms at the scattering acromantulas. The effect was facilitated by the fact that Grawp had affixed what appeared to be a tree stump to the remaining portion of his left arm, which was amputated halfway between his elbow and where is wrist used to be. Much slower than individuals within the disintegrating swarm, Grawp struck those isolated members that were so confused that they could not avoid his crashing blows.

The centaurs however were perfectly within their element. Ridding down the fleeing acromantulas they mercilessly killed them and moved on to the next hoping to get as many as possible before they disappeared in to the forest. By now, none were left along side of the pond and the battle under the surface was drawing to a close. Surveying the battlefield, Magorian counted three centaurs that had been killed outright and a goodly number more had been injured. At first guess, he estimated that thirty or forty acromantulas had been killed, with another twenty in the forest. Sighing deeply, he raised his head and blew into a horn that had hung at his side. This would call the entire battleherd back together so he could better determine the actual losses that day.

As Bane approached Magorian, he could see the undisguised shame on his lord's face. Bane had broken with the plan and almost caused their victory to have become a defeat. Looking away Magorian gravely confided in Bane as he drew near, "Too many losses to be considered a success."

"Yes Lord Magorian, " Bane said while slightly bowing his head. "They're getting more cunning also. Ambushing the ambusher, I had never imagined the filthy creatures were capable of it."

"Now they will also know that Grawp has joined us and that element of surprise will be lost." Magorian reflected.

Turning from Bane and surveying his troops his eyes fell upon one in particular, very different from the rest. She was roughly the same size as the other centaurs, but she had a distinct green tinge to her hair and skin, with large bulbous eyes and pointed ears. Also, where her torso met her equine half, large fish scales stretched across the transition.

Approaching her Magorian said imperiously, "Please express our gratitude to Merchieftainess Murcus for her support against our enemies."

"They are our enemies also, Lord Magorian." Farba said in her shreiky voice. "The acromantulas have begun to sweep the ponds in this area clean of fish and anything else that gets caught in their nets, leaving nothing for us to eat."

"As it is with us. They have hunted the forest clear of every bird, deer, or lizard that used to live here." Magorian observed. "Out of curiousity, how did the merwarriors get into the pond anyway? We are many miles from the great lake or the ocean."

"Most of these ponds are connected by a network of ancient underwater caves." Farba responded.

"Well it was a very prudent decision to wait until they turned their backs to us. Again convey my regards to Merchieftainess Murcus. We leave in 15 minutes" He added abruptly.

Stepping into the shallows at one side of the pond, Farba called out and waited in the cold water. Oddly she had never known cold until entering this bizarre overwater world, where sound traveled funny and everyone walked on the ground.

Soon she noticed the characteristic ripples of someone approaching from beneath the surface of the water. Sticking his head just above the surface, the Lord Centaur's son, Agorianam, initiated the ancient greeting of the emissaries.

"I call to my other as my other calls to me," Chanted Agorianam

"We are bound to meet while the truce still holds," answered Farba.

"Should my people fail, then my life is forfeit," continued Agorianam.

"My life is forfeit, should my people fail," said Farba

"The truce still holds and we are bound to meet," said Agorianam

"My other calls to me and I call to my other." said Farba.

Bowing their heads ceremoniously to each other they concluded the ritual.

"Lord Magorian, wishes to express his gratitude to Merchieftainess Murcus." Said Farba formally. It pained her that there was no message of personal greeting to Agorianam.

"And Merchieftainess Murcus also conveys her appreciation to Lord Magorian for his valiant efforts on this day." Said Agorianam. "Merchieftainess Murcus also wanted me to convey the great honor she feels of your sacrifice."

Her voice becoming more strained that normal, Farba asked "Is there any more that needs that Merchieftainess Murcus wishes to convey?"

"Yes, please tell Lord Magorian that while this pond was spared today, another just twenty minutes away from here was not. They are expanding their territory." Responded Agorianam.

"I will pass this on at the War Ring tonight." Said Farba.

Nodding to each other one last time they separated without another word.

During the ritual, the centaurs had erected a funeral pyre for their fallen comrades in arms. Each said goodbye and wished them speed into the next life as they marched past. The last one set the pyre afire and nobody looked back.

The walk to the Centaur camp was long, especially after such a hard battle earlier that day. Farba missed currents that could sweep you up and carry you for miles. A particularly skilled Mer could catch cross currents and small eddys in order to travel whatever direction they wanted with almost no effort at all. That was another aspect of living overwater she hated, no currents.

Entering the camp, she looked at the faces of the centaur she passed. They all had a defeated look about them that forced their eyes to watch the ground a bit more than expressly needed. She had hoped theirvictory today would had raised the camp's spirits. Realizing that whatever gains they had made today, they probably lost more somewhere else. Soon she was watching the ground a bit more that was needed to make her way to the War Ring.

It was a large circle that was cleared from the woods around them. Within it sat, stood, or lay other emissaries. Often referred to as the Honor Bound, the nature of the pact between beings was simple. Each party would exchange a member of the ruling class, normally a first son or daughter. That way if either failed to act honorably in battle, that groups emissary would be killed and the pact broken. There were stories of rare occasions where the pact lasted so long that the emissaries were unable to return to their normal form. Also, each emissary had to consume a majical herb every day that allowed them to survive in almost the form of the party with whom the pact was made. Should they fail, the pact would be broken and the other emissary would be killed.

The number of Honor Bounds sitting around the War Ring was a good indication of how serious the war with the acromantulas was. Inititally the Centaurs tried to eradicate the acromantuals on their own. Considering them mindless beasts, the Centaurs rode up to the web dome that formed the heart of the acromantula empire and tried to slay them all. They were quickly routed. Disturbingly the acromantula's discovered quite the taste for Centaur flesh and blood. Since then the Centaurs have been beaten back from their former home deep within the forbidden forest to the very edges. They now sat barely fifty bowshots away from the edge of the forest and would have to move closer any day.

There was never a stranger group of creatures ever to be found. At the top of the circle sat Lord Magorian to his right and by order of when the pact was signed was Farber. Next was a Centaur/Thestral named Hythsss, whose reptilian skin made him appear to be a normal centaur who was wearing special armor. After him was a Centaur/Unicorn who refused to use a name, but was magnificent to behold. His muscled torso was covered by the barest of coats of fine white hair and sticking from his forhead was a golden horn almost ten inches long. There was room for several other mixed peoples, but the last spaces were taken instead by a single individual, Grawp.

"We have formed this council to better decide the fate of us all," Magorian said "for years the Centaurs have followed the signs of the stars and they have led us well. Now there is an enemy that does not appear in the heavens at all. It is if nature so abhors their existance that it refuses to acknowledge. We are blind and no not where to go."

Fulfilling her obligation, Farba informed the council that another pond was lost not far from the one they had saved. At least for today.

"GRAWP WANT HAGGER. HAGGER HELP." Voiced Grawp.

Shaking his head, Magorian said, "Wizards never help. Where we they when the acromantulas set upon you by the hundreds? Where were they when you were poisoned? Where they there we had to sever your arm to save you life? No. We are in this alone."

In the quietest voice Grawp could manage, which was still quite loud, "Grawp Miss Hagger, But Mag Save Me. What To Do Now?"

The quietness spread around the circle as each emissary considered that question.

The Centaur/Thestral, Hythss, spoke in an odd disconnected way of one who spent to much time being invisible, "No daysss, No nightttt. All brighttt. Need allysss."

"Unfortunately we are quickly running out of them, Trolls haven't inhabited these woods for many decades and that would only leave the owls as the last intelligent beings." Said Magorian.

"Could we request an emissary, they would be useful for telling us where the enemy is and what they are doing?" asked the Centaur/Unicorn.

"I have tried and so far have not received a response." Said Magorian, but ruefully thought to himself, "Not that I have any family left to exchange an emissary."

"Then do we accept their relentless expansion? Should we leave the forest to them? But where can we go, we are surrounded by muggles on three sides and Wizards on the last." Said the Centaur/Unicorn exasperatedly.

Farba was struck by a thought, "While we can't stop them from expanding, maybe we can direct their expansion."

"Lord Magorian, what if we pulled everyone back from the Western pass?" asked Farba.

"Without our being there, the monsters would expand and eat everything in their paths, everything that is until they reached Hog…" said Magorian before stopping himself short.

"Yes, that is just what I was thinking." Said Farba to the mutual agreement of everyone there.


	9. Chapter 8

Chaper – 8 Meetings

Number 12 Grimmauld Place came into existence before Harry's eyes after the initial disorientation of apparating side-along with Lupin. The sight was bittersweet as memories of time spent with Sirius and the others were jogged by seeing the familiar battered door and grimy windows. Its ragtag appearance reminded Harry of the dementor's rotting cloaks. Shuttering he had never wanted to come back here, yet now he was. Catching Lupin's eyes, he noticed how they glistened in the setting rays of the sun just the smallest amount; Harry realized that he wasn't alone in his regrets.

Quietly he walked with the others towards the entrance, knowing that it was dangerous to be out in the open like this. He felt strangely agoraphobic nowadays, almost like being a hunted animal. He wondered how long Sirius had felt like this and finally appreciated how depressing this house must have been in order to make him desire to flee into back into it. Harry softly swore to himself that this was just a stop, he wasn't staying. He wasn't going to let this place suck his soul.

Upon reaching the doorway Moody motioned to Harry to keep quiet and knocked quietly on the door. Just moments later the door silently clicked open and all of them filed in a darkened hallway. Still not making any noise they crept past the picture of Sirius' mother. Even though there was a heavy cloth draped over it, he could hear the slight moaning of Mrs. Black on the other side, "Oh why has this dreadful thing happened to us? To have so many filthy degenerates living in my house and desecrating our family's noble linage. What did we ever do to deserve this shameful treatment?"

Stealthily they made their way to the study, across from the stairway. Harry had hoped to actually go to the kitchen first, realizing that he hadn't eaten in probably a day and a half or more and was famished. Closing the door behind them, Moody pointed his wand at it and said, "Imperturbatus." The brief flash of light told Harry that they could finally talk. "Where is everybody?" was the first question Harry asked. He had expected throngs of wizards busily coordinating their offensive against Voldemort. The muggle movies portrayed command centers as a beehive of activity, yet this house stood silent, gravelike.

Shamefully, the members of the Order of the Pheonix, momentarily averted their eyes. "The wars not going well for us." Admitted Moody. "We've lost a couple to Death Eater's, but the biggest culprit so far has been fear."

Nodding appreciably, Harry kept silent.

Lupin started next, "The Order is not what it once was after Dumbledore was killed. Wizards stopped believing that they could do anything, that the best thing to do was keep low and wait for it to blow over. That's one problem with living so long, everybody believes that the pendulum will swing the other way eventually regardless of what they do."

"That's not what Dumbledore taught us!" said Harry bitterly

"We know, we know." Tonks now offered up. "Those of us who were fortunately to be close enough to him understand this, but most don't and want to protect their own."

"Surest way to a quick death, " grumbled Moody. "Voldemort is just as likely to kill a pureblood as a half blood as a squib as a muggle. Killing is all he cares about."

"You're wrong about that Moody." said Harry dispensing with any formality. "Voldemort once told me that there is no good and evil, there is only power...and those too weak to seek it'. He doesn't care about killing someone any more that you care about killing a flea. He has gone too from being human and now only thinks about making himself more powerful. Killing gives him power; his Death Eaters see that and emulate it thinking it will do the same for them."

While talking the door had opened and Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's voice call out, "They found you! We were so worried about you! Are you ok? Are you hurt?" While rushing through these and a dozen questions about his health, Mrs. Weasley enclosed him in a deep welcoming embrace.

Allowing himself to sink into the moment Harry thought, "If there truly is anything called home, this is it."

"Though I am kinda hungry." Harry said once Mrs. Weasley released him enough to breath.

She shot an accusatory glance to the others standing in the study of which only Moody was able to withstand, before shaking him gently and pulling him towards the kitchen. "We must get you something to eat right now then." She insisted. "Tonks, Hestia please go into the pantry and bring up some of those roasts we have."

Not wanting to disobey, but feeling rather put out that she had to do the "women's work" and get dinner ready, Tonks punched Lupin hard in the arm as she walked and narrowed her gaze on Moody. Who only half smiled with is crooked mouth. Just then Mrs Weasley added, "This place is a mess, Moody clear off the table and clean the dishes."

Moody was stuck watching Tonks' ever widening smile, lowered his head and answered, "Yes Molly, I'll be right in." Keeping his back turned he could distinctly hear Hestia and Tonks sniggering to eachother as they left to get the evening's meal.

The break suited Harry who really was extremely hungry. During the meal, everybody started getting Harry up to speed on the events following Dumbledore's murder. The conversation was at such a clip that all he caught was snippets while eating.

"Everyone's terrified that Death Eaters will jump out from behind every bush…"

"Any wonder why, they often do…"

"… Scrimgeour is under a huge amount of pressure to do something…"

"… and Gringotts was attacked twice this month; they're talking about closing their doors…"

"… Diagon alley is empty nowadays, except for Fred and George that is…"

Harry, picked up all sorts of gossip over the next hour about the wizarding world. In the intervening next couple of hours a number of wizards and witches showing up asking what had happened and if he was ok. The word was getting around that he was safe and those members of the Order who were still active waned to see him. Professor McGonagall showed at 11:00 p.m. and expressed how relived she was to see him safe. While that may be true, it was immediately obvious to him and the others in the room that she was very distracted and almost didn't want to be there.

Almost an hour later, Harry was shocked to see Ron and Hermione excitedly bursting through the door to the kitchen. Hermione immediately drew him into a huge hug while Ron stood there slapping him on the back saying how great it was to see him.

"Man you had us worried! We thought for sure that _he_ had gotten you and… ", but Ron stopped before saying what was on their minds when he saw Hermione tearing up and getting ready to cry.

"We were so scared that Voldemort had killed you." Choked out Hermione.

Voldemorts name caught everybody's attention and the room went quiet. After a moments silence Mrs. Weasley unexpectedly interjected, "Guess what Harry? We have a bit of a surprise for you."

Blankly looking back at her, he couldn't imagine what it was.

"Happy Birthday Harry!" she said quite loudly while brandishing an incredibly delicious looking chocolate cake. On it was large candle in the shape of the number seventeen burning brightly while seventeen miniature Quidditich players zoomed around, tossing a quaffle amongst them.

Laughing, he realized that it had completely slipped his mind after his abduction two days ago. He cheerfully accepted the well wishing of all who were there and furthered enjoyed doling out the cake. He had never had a birthday party before and couldn't imagine a greater gift.

After quite a while of talking and catching up with his best friends, Moody moved up to him and said, "Well Potter it is time for your birthday spell."

"Oh yeah, that's right, I can legally cast magic now. What do you think it should be?" Harry gushed as he pulled out his wand.

He looked around to find a far greater solemnity than was present just a moment ago. "Whats the matter?" asked Harry.

"You don't know do you." answered Ron for the rest of the group, " I suppose it comes from not growing up in a wizarding family, but the first spell you cast after coming of age is special. From now on whenever you cast it will never fail you. The trick is, if you cast it wrong, it will never work for you again."

"That and Harry its kind of a secret thing. We aren't supposed to know what it is. I guess it comes from wizards not wanting to be embarrassed if it fails. Anyway, you should take a moment and go into the other room." Hermione followed up.

The room full of people eagerly watched Harry as he exited into the hallway. Standing there in the partial darkness he thought of the hundreds of spells he had tried over the years. For each and every one of them he thought how beneficial it would be as his birthday spell. He weighed each one against the other. Can't be too weak or it's not worth it and it can't be too powerful or I might goof it up. Then with a dawning insight, one spell stood clear from the rest.

In the kitchen, the conversation had picked up again as they speculated on what spell Harry would choose and the ones they wished they had used themselves. When all of a sudden a loud crashing noise came from the other room and they rushed out to see what was going on. It was at that moment Mrs. Black's voice rang out from behind the sheet, shouting with all her ability, "YOU FILTHY HALF-BREEDS DISHONOR AND BETRAY ALL THAT WAS NOBEL IN OUR WORLD!!"

Despite the distraction that Mrs. Black's string of invectives was, they looked desperately for Harry, which was complicated by the darkness of the hallway. Fairly quickly they found Harry head over heals and tangled up in an old chair. This situation was all the more disconcerting because the chair was attempting to eat Harry.

Lupin correctly assessed that it was yet another item enchanted with dark magic that had either been left by the Blacks or possibly created by Ketcher when he was the house elf at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Lupin shouted "_Reducto"_ and pointing his wand at the chair, destroying it in a single blast. Several wizards started trying to quiet Mrs. Black again as the others helped Harry back into the kitchen.

He sat dazed for a moment and finally said, "Well I guess that was a bad idea."

Not wanting to pursue it, the group decided that it was probably late enough and that they should be leaving. Embarrassed Harry wished each of them a good evening as they left. Soon it was just the three of them left. Mrs. Weasley had humphed loudly she found out that Hermione was staying with Ron and Harry alone, but they were all of age now and no longer needed her permission. Instead she and Moody indicated that they would be by early tomorrow, very early tomorrow, to discuss some things.

Harry sensed that Ron and Hermione wanted to talk about the events of the last few months and what they were going to do. However exhaustion was taking over and he wished them a good night. Climbing the stairs, Harry headed for his old room, but as he approached the door to the master bedroom opened beckoningly. He was struck by the thought that it was his room now, the master of this house. He felt very uncomfortable with the thought, but that didn't change the fact that the house recognized him as such. Not wanting to deal with any more mysteries tonight, Harry made his way to the bed and fell fast asleep.

- - -

Harry awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. The cake and the camaraderie were good for him. Even in the light of day, there was a gloom. It was extremely large and the bed was more comfortable than he would have expected. That is where the positive aspects ended. The rest of the room would have been perfect had he been in a gothic vampire film. It had dark curtains that hung on the edges of the bed and an old, very dark carpeting that communicated no warmth what so ever. All the light fixtures were shaped like snakes and a number of small silver panels on the walls had been etched with the same motif. With a sense of foreboding Harry crawled out of bed to find the bathroom. It was little better, with the only redeeming feature being that it had a hot shower. Surprising there was a single, almost modern, feature in the master bedroom. As Harry opened a door just to the right of the bathroom it opened up into a room about the ten feet on each side. Looking around he realized that this was once used as a practice room. He didn't know if Sirius had used it as such, but one of the former owners did. He poked around and found a human shaped dummy that looked as if every spell in the book had been cast against it.

Trying a few of his own, he discovered that the dummy couldn't be caught on fire, or frozen, or even blown up using the same spell that had saved him last night. Instead, Harry found a hook in the ceiling and hung it from it. Harry started punching the bag in the same way that Dudley had shown him. Moving back and froth, it occurred to Harry that he could actually enchant a speed bag and some other equipment to help him workout. Continuing on for the better part of an hour, Harry finally went back to the bathroom and took a hot shower.

All he had was the clothes he arrived with, so he put them back on, intending to go out to get some new ones that day. On the way down the stairs he heard the soft tapping of someone at the door. Remembering the portrait, he opened the door to discover a goodly number of the Order had just arrived, to include Mr. and Mrs Weasley, Moody, McGonagall, Lupin, Tonks, Arabella Figg, and a few others he did not recognize. Two stood out in his mind. The first was a middle aged man who carried himself as if he had quite a bit of wealth and liked people knowing it. The second was an attractive witch who was wearing turquoise robes.

The all made their way back to the study only to find both Ron and Hermione reading a massive text they had found in the library.

Once they were all in the room and the door was closed, Professor McGonagall tapped her wand on a oaken table that sat in the middle of the room and the members had arranged themselves around as if she was calling a class to attention. She then said in her professor's voice "The Order of the Pheonix is dedicated to stopping Volde… Voldemort. It was Albus' great work to free the world of his evil and we will continue on in his stead. This day I would like to offer membership to Ronald Weasley (a slight gasp could be heard from Mrs. Weasley upon hearing her son's name), Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter. It was one of Albus' last wishes to do so." As Professor McGonagall said this an odd, pinched look came over her face as if an uncomfortable remembrance had come to mind. Member's agreeing please say yes." Concluding she scanned the room and watched as all the members' started motion an affirmative.

Before the tally could actually be made, Harry stood up and asked, "Excuse me Minerva, but what if we don't want to join the Order of the Phoenix?"

The entire room was taken aback at his question, even Ron and Hermione hadn't expected this.

"What do you mean Potter?" interjected Moody "Are you going to cut and run like the rest?"

Minerva almost on top of Moody also said, "It is what Albus wanted. He told me so last year."

Tonks pleaded, "But you have to Harry, it is what we have all been waiting for."

Hestia placed her head in her hands as was rocking back and forth slightly.

Even Hermione and Ron whispered, "But Harry…"

Raising his had to quiet down the meeting, Harry proceeded to say, "I suspect there are a number of agendas in this room. Minerva wants us to continue marching along Dumbledore's path, Moody wants to attack, and some of you believe that I am destined to defeat Voldemort in battle. All those may be good reasons you would want me to join, but they are not good enough for me to join. Let me be clear and unequivocal on this point, I can't defeat Voldemort."

The room erupted into a cacophony of assertions that he was wrong or under estimated himself or one even one members offering that they were all doomed. Ron and Hermione had turned their eyes from the group in apparent shame. Watching this continue for a while, Moody eventually slammed his fist down hard onto the table and shouted "Coward!! How many have died protecting you and now you are going to give up?!"

Assuming, the disarming calm that Dr. Randels seemed to exude, Harry stared directly back into Moody's eyes and said, "Oh you are quite mistaken about us giving up Moody. Ron, Hermione, and I leave to confront Voldemort immediately following Bill and Fleur's wedding (again Mrs. Weasley gasped). In the three weeks before that happens we have a tremendous amount of work to do and I can't see how we would do you any good in that time. In fact it might expose us to secrets that we just shouldn't have. Regardless, I can't see the Order lasting that much longer anyway. With Dumbledore's murder your center is gone and who will pick it up? "

Walking around the group seated at the table Harry proceeded to say, "Dumbledore is dead for one reason, that I failed him." A goodly number of the members objected to this and said that he shouldn't take this responsibility. Again signally that he had more to say, Harry continued by saying, "I have come to terms with the shame of this, but that doesn't negate the central fact that had I continued the DA, Dumbledore would be alive. So to answer your question Moody, that is when I gave up, not now." He let the weight of his admission sink in to the group.

"Look around and what do you see, an increasingly small number of valiant wizards fighting the good fight. I ask you, who amongst you actually knew what Dumbledore's real plans were?" Wide eyed and giving Harry her complete attention, this conversation seemed to have special meaning for McGonagall. In fact her manner had already changed from when she had arrived slightly stooped and introspective, to a more erect posture and bolder countenance.

Not receiving a single coherent response from the group Harry hammered his point home by raising his voice and saying, "If we fight this war Dumbledore's way we will lose, just as he did."

At this point Harry had finished his speech and ended up standing behind his chair. Griping it in his hands, Harry took one deep breath and announced, "As master of this house I hereby revolk the previous offer to the Order of the Phoenix to serve as its headquarters. Instead, I present an alternative for any of those who wish to live in a world without Voldemort, Death Eaters, or even Dark Wizards." Stepping back from the chair Harry peered deeply into each of the stunned faces looking back at him.

"Stand before me and say Voldemort's name without hesitation and become a member of Dumbledore's Army, Order of the Stag Division."


	10. Chapter 9

Chap 9 – Directions

It was Ron who first stood-up, unconsciously straitening his robes then pulling out his wand and gripping it tightly in his right hand. He marched up to Harry and directly faced him and placed his wand hand to his heart. "VOLDEMORT!", Ron shouted, saying that name for the first time in his life without the barest of hints of stuttering or stammering. Coincidently, Ron's wand actually sparked silver for a brief second, which was obscured to the rest of the room."

Harry nodded to Ron, who was making way for Hermione. Taking the same position, Hermione more quietly, but far more evenly said, "Voldemort." Her wand also briefly sparked silver.

Mr. Weasley was next and actually grabed Harry's shoulder in a fatherly fashion with his left hand while saying Voldemort's name. Squeezing hard he then moved aside for Molly.

In spite of the tears that ran thickly down Mrs. Weasley's face, her voice could not have been clearer. Pulling in Harry to a quick hug she stepped over to Ron and held him tightly in her arms. Ron never flinched with a boy's natural hesitance to receive overt affection from his mother. Instead, pulled her close and comforted her.

Lupin whispered to Harry as he approached "And the student becomes the master, eh?", before completing the impromptu ritual. Moody, stood more erect than most believed him capable at his turn. By the time McGonagall drew near to Harry she was completely changed from this morning. Tonks irrepressible humor manifested itself as she said "Voldemort" with a wide grin on her face and eyes twinkling.

The remaining wizards one by one filed before Harry and said Voldemort's name without falter. It not until the last wizard, the wealthy looking one Harry had noticed earlier, stood before him, hand on chest and wordlessly sounding out Voldemort's name. His head began to dip as he realized he couldn't say the name. Harry just smiled and said, "Why are you ashamed? You have just learned the most important lesson anybody can learn and now can live your life free of doubt. Unlike thousands of others you know exactly who you are at this point in your life." Reaching out with his hands and placing them on the wizard's shoulders. "That is not to say it is who you will always be. You know where to find us should you ever want to."

It was as if a great weight was lifted from the man, he bowed repeatedly and thanked Harry each time. Meeting the sympathetic eyes of the rest of the Order, he excused himself and made his way out the door.

Harry deeply bowed his head to the remaining gathering and solemnly promised, "As long as I have breath, I shall work to bring about a better world for all of us." Raising his head, he asked for a moment of silence to honor the passing of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Now to business.", Harry said respectfully. After everyone was seated again, Harry motioned to a young wizard he didn't know to take some notes. "First, nothing changes Ron, Hermione, and I am leaving in three weeks. Second, we need a new Secret Keeper. I would have brought two new recruits but since when Dumbledore was murdered no one new can be brought into the fold. I suggest it should be Minerva."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows for two reasons, she wasn't exactly sure that she approved of Harry's new familiarity and she immediately appreciated the wisdom of his recommendation. "As I will be firmly ensconced at Hogwarts for the foreseeable future it makes sense. Last June aside, it is very unlikely that Voldemort will break through it's defenses any time soon."

"Is everybody in agreement then?" Harry asked. Noting no dissent they moved on.

"Third, we need a leader, someone to organize things and I again recommend Minerva." Harry offered.

This time the response was different from McGonagall. "No, I have other pressing matters that would preclude me from dedicating the time to serve as I should." She said resolutely.

Accepting McGonagall's refusal in stride, "Then the next most logical person would be Arthur Weasley." Said Harry.

Most everyone had expected Harry to recommend Moody, with his years of Auror experience and having much the same allure as Scrimgeour; a hard man for hard times and all that. Sensing the confusion around the table Harry added, "Voldemort will not be defeated by force alone. We need allies and contacts and some special assistance from other's fighting against him. Arthur is deep enough within the Ministry of Magic to be heard, but not seen. If anyone else voiced these opinions they would be reviled and their loyalties questions. As Arthur has spent a lifetime true to his beliefs, no one can question his sincerity. We are looking for sympathetic ears, where ever they may be."

The wizards all nodded their assent and it was duly noted by the young wizard.

"That being said, the hard part now begins. We have to find our own way through this to the end, because there is nobody else who will do it for us." Harry concluded.

The group broke up with various murmurs about have to get back and other places that people needed to be. Harry pulled McGonagall aside and spoke confidentially with her. "I need a couple of things from Hogwarts. First a couple on new teaching positions need to be opened up at Hogwarts and don't worry about it they already have a salary." Harry quickly outlined his abduction by Dr. Randels and Col. Franklin. He expressed that if they were clever enough to get him, maybe they could help out. He didn't tell her about much of what he said, but he felt the exposure between the two worlds may yield something helpful. McGonagall was doubtful but agreed for her own reasons that were growing quickly in her heart. Next, I need to talk to you about house elves.

As soon as Harry moved away from McGonagall she was swamped with several others seeking information.

He then walked over to Ron and Hermione and simply said "First, I guess we should start making plans"

Ron looked back at Harry then at Hermione then at Harry and responded, "First we need to play some Quidditch."

Between the Order members there and a couple of others that could be called for they would have two complete teams. Harry was pleasantly surprised to find all his stuff waiting for him in the hallway. Apparently, Moody or Lupin had gone back and retrieved it from Dr. Randels. So he grabbed his Firebolt and made for the door. Moody stopped him before the handle was turned. "First, how to hide yourself, then Quidditch" Moody said with resolve.

The three looked at each other and obediently went back to the study for lessons. Within three hours, they learned the fundamental spells necessary to function within the Order of the Phoenix, oops, Stag, as they kept reminding each other. Moody showed them how to perform a dissolusionment charm and how to use their Patronus' to communicate with another member. They were amazed at the brilliance of this suggestion, because you would always know who the message came from as Patronus' couldn't be faked. In the next three hours they reviewed all the hexes, curses, and jinxes they knew. Moody, then later joined by Lupin, both proved to be excellent teachers. There was little wonder at the end of the day why Dumbledore had once selected them both.

After a solid six hours of casting, the three begged Moody and Lupin to give them a break so they could get something to eat and bleed off the effects of insufficiently blocked spells. Before raiding the kitchen, they all agreed that to commit three hours a day to practice, regardless of the other preparations over the next three weeks. Lupin quietly winced at this thought, knowing that for at least one week he would miss out.

Long after dinner the three sat around the table exchanging stories of growing up at Hogwarts. Each laughing at the others foibles the conversation remained light throughout. It was as if they needed to reinforce the connection they shared to steel themselves for the coming period.

Finally Harry excused himself and went to find his bed. Tired, but not exhausted, his mind whirled with all that had happened today. He didn't doubt the decisions he had made that day, not that lacking doubt made them any more correct he inwardly joked. But they were the best he could do given the situation. After taking a shower and then getting in bed, he quickly fell asleep.

- - -

Harry took two stairs at a time the next morning. It was like he felt like he had direction in his life and it propelled him forward. Passing the door, he heard the familiar tap of someone wanting to enter. At first Harry didn't see anyone and thought it must have been his mind playing tricks, but as he closed the door he happened to look down and see Dobby nervously twisting his hat in is hand. He was dressed as garishly as ever with a bright orange shirt, and pants that had yellow and black vertical stripes. Welcoming him in but shushing him to be quiet, they entered the kitchen to talk. From the looks of things he had some cleaning up to do in there.

"Harry Potter, sir!" squeaked Dobby, "I have come to inform you that this house's elf has recently passed on."

So Ketcher was dead, the thought effected him more that it conceivably should have. Maybe it was because Harry still linked Sirius with Ketcher and brought back many memories, both good and bad.

"How did it happen?" Harry asked not really wanting to know.

"Potato salad, Harry Potter sir." Said Dobby whose ears dropped slightly almost like he felt it was his fault.

"What? I didn't catch that last part Dobby." Said Harry shaking his head slightly.

"Ketcher was a bad house elf, always trying to put things into students food or to talk to Draco Malfoy." Dobby continued with his nervousness only increasing.

Harry had never thought of this, what if Ketcher was helping Draco? Being distantly related to the black family it might have been enough to push the bounds of his order. Remembering his first meeting with Dobby, he had told Harry a great deal, even though he had proportionally punished himself.

"Did he reach him?" enquired Harry.

"No, Harry Potter, sir. On Dumbledore's orders he was kept in the kitchens at all times." Said Dobby.

"Oh well then thank you Dobby, I appreciate you coming all the way out here to find me." Said Harry forgetting about the potato salad reference.

"No problem at all, Professor McGonagall told me how to reach you so Dobby came immediately!", said Dobby in a animated voice.

Staring at eachother for a moment Harry asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Hunching so far over that he almost became a ball, Dobby said in the quietest tones he could, "I would be honored to become your new house elf, Harry Potter sir" The sight was slightly incongruous in Harry's mind. Harry knew that Dobby almost worshiped him, yet it seemed that Dobby was doing this more out of duty that his personal wishes.

"It is interesting that you mention this, because I just had a conversation last night with Professor McGonagall about the nature of a House Elves' servitude. Apparently it can only be forged by a debt of service owed to the house by the elf. In the past you have mentioned that you believe all house elves own me a debt of gratitude for initially stopping Voldemort all those many years ago. Do you still believe this?" Harry asked while closely watching Dobby's reactions.

"Yes," squeeked Dobby.

"And you must realize that should you bind yourself to this house you will probably never again be able to leave it. The nature of the secrets here are such that none may ever know." Harry said in a somewhat blustery voice.

"Yes," squeeked Dobby even higher in pitch than before.

"Knowing that you will have to leave all the freedoms you now enjoy, never to see any other house elf again, no matter your connection with them, that you will have to relinquish the clothes you currently wear!" said Harry expansively.

"Yes," squeeked Dobby so high that the only entity that heard him was a stray dog currently walking past Number 12 Grimmauld Place looking for food.

"Then I ask you this question Dobby of the house elves. Will you bind yourself and all your kin to the fate of the Noble House of POTTER!", Harry now yelling.

Each fraction of a second stretched an eternity before Dobby totally collapsed within himself and forced the fateful word out, "No!"

Quaking at the anticipated tirade of indignation from the savior of the House Elves, he beat himself inwardly for letting down his entire race.

"Good." Said Harry happily. "I was quite hoping for a woman's touch to be honest. Would you happen to know any house elves who are looking for a new home to bind to?"

Without any semblance of an emotional transition, Dobby eagerly said "Winky is! Winky would love to bind to Harry Potter's house!" With a crack he was gone.

Sitting down and sighing to himself, he noticed Ron and Hermione entering the kitchen from the door to the study. "We, um, overheard your talk with Dobby." Gingerly ventured Hermione.

"I know, I know Hermione I am a slaver now. I am the worst scum that ever walked the earth and SPEW members will burn me in effigy for the next 1000 years." Said Harry very tired.

Ron and Hermione exchanged wordless glances and it was Hermione who bent down next to Harry kissing him softly on the cheek. "They're not all ready for SPEW yet. Just be kind to her." Hermione said gently.

About an hour later, during their practice session, Dobby reappeared with a freshly sobered up Winky. Waiting for them to pause, Winky nervously stood in front of them not knowing what to do next.

Harry, having an opportunity to think about this walked up to Winky. "I am offering you the choice to bind to this house or to return to Hogwarts. Before I receive your answer Sirius once told me that men often drink in order to fill a hole in their souls. If this binding will do this, I agree to it; if not, I will not allow it?" Harry said solemnly.

Winky's eyes were almost coming out of here head at this point, bowing deeply she said, "All other bindings are past. All other commitments are done. I pledge to the sacred trusts and bonds that first lay between wizards and house elves, to my ancestors whose spirits will protect your home, and to Harry Potter. I will faithfully serve you until relinquished from this duty."

"And I accept" said Harry.

A calm seemed to come over Winky at hearing those words. It was as if her universe made sense again.

Dobby, however, was ecstatic. He was jumping up and down and making little shrieking noises. The study being too small to contain his glee, he bounced right out of the door and continued to make an unearthly racket in the hallway. This triggered a series of chain reactions. Mrs. Black immediately began to shriek and scream even louder than Dobby. The entire house seemed to reverberate with her disgust and loathing. Dobby initial attempts to quell the painting only made it worse so he stated punishing himself by banging his head soundly against the banister, resulting in a gong like sound that only infuriated Mrs. Black more.

"No more, no more, just make it stop." Harry called out exasperatedly. In a flash, Winky was there. One quick snap of her finger and Mrs. Black's shouting ended. Furthermore, she strode up to Dobby struck him in the back of his head with the flat of her palm and exclaimed, "This is Mr. Harry Potter's house and you will behave yourself, and that includes no punishing yourself." she added anticipating Harry's next request.

In the sudden quiet, Winky pulled up her tea cozy to make it more presentable and politely asked , "Would anybody care for lunch?"

"That would be fine." Harry said in a shocked tone. "About a half an hour then?" he added.

Winky, obeying immediately, whisked around and went into the kitchen.

It was right then that one of the most amazing things that has ever happened to Harry Potter occurred. A very awed Dobby approached Harry, raised his head to meet Harry's eyes, placed his right hand over his heart and said, "Voldemort" without flinching at all.


End file.
